Uncertain Paths
by Unknown Soldier Shadow
Summary: Rosalie Brown is a thirteen-year old girl who doesn't want to grow up. When suspicion lingers around the death of her father, can Rosalie and her dæmon discover the secret or be punished for their struggle for the truth?
1. Chapter 1

****

Sooo... I'm a fan of HDM and I have been for a while. I had a sudden vivid daydream about this fic today, and decided to commit a little time and work to make this a full-blown story. :D

**This fic is set in modern time in a world not quite like Lyra's or Will's. And, like everything else I write, is quite depressing. ^.^ **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Rosalie lay on her back staring up at the sky. She really didn't want to do anything really, just sit and enjoy the day by herself. She sighed happily as the sun warmed soaked into her body. The field she was lying in was usually always deserted; students didn't usually come to this part of the school. She didn't even flinch as a large bat crawled onto her belly.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" she asked the bat, not moving her eyes from the slowly passing clouds. "Don't you think, Tyxander?"

Her dæmon snuggled deep into her sweater. "Yes," he agreed. "But we should be going soon," he said unhappily. "Tyler and Analise will be looking all over for us."

"We don't have to go," she suggested at the mention of her brother. "We can just stay here forever." She laughed at her own lax attitude. She had homework to do, tests to study for… all things that she did not want to do. She stretched her arms above her head as Tyxander scrambled onto the ground.

She heaved herself to her feet and looked around. The field was still empty, the trees encircling it on either side acting as effective barriers to keep most people out. She picked up her blue backpack off the ground, dusting off the dry grass that clung to the bottom.

Tyxander changed into a large dark silver wolf: his favorite form. He shook his white ruff and bounded to her side. "I'll race you," he challenged, his yellow eyes narrowed playfully.

Rosalie laughed. "No way I'll beat you, Ty! Maybe if you were a duck or something--"

"Or a turtle," he teased, cutting her off. She leapt at her dæmon, aiming to grab his fluffy tail, but he jumped out of the way at the last second and dashed across the clearing back towards school, leaving Rosalie to chase after him.

As they emerged from the trees, Rosalie caught sight of her brother, Tyler, looking very worried and annoyed at the same time. He ran a hand through his dark blonde hair. His dæmon, a red fox named Analise, caught sight of them and nudged his leg, motioning in their direction. Tyler glared in Rosalie's direction and came marching over.

"Where were you, Rosalie?" he asked, barely contained anger in his voice. Analise at his feet was flicking her tail from side-to-side.

"Me and Ty were just in the field," she muttered looking at her feet. Tyxander became a mouse and crept up her jeans and into her hands. "We just wanted to look around for a bit…" She trailed off.

"We were so worried about you two," Tyler raged. "What would mom have done if I would have come home without you?" He dropped a hand to rest it on Analise's head, trying to calm himself.

"Well, I'm here now," Rosalie snapped. "Can we go now?" Tyxander changed into an barn owl and flew to her shoulder, his dark eyes contrasting sharply with his white face. He opened his beak and let out a soft hiss. Analise looked up at him, unimpressed.

Tyler let out a sigh, and hefted his backpack higher on his shoulder. "Fine," he agreed. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm just really stressed out about my chemistry test."

Rosalie gave her brother a hug, which he returned with an awkward pat on her back. Analise at his feet nuzzled the now ferret-formed Tyxander.

As Tyler and Rosalie walked back home, Rosalie thought back over the conversation. Their mother always put Tyler in charge; him being the oldest at fifteen, while she was only thirteen. Rosalie resented being the baby of the family, but was happy that she had such a great big brother as Tyler.

Tyxander dashed up into her arms. His whiskered face tickled hers as he whispered, "Analise isn't mad anymore."

Rosalie looked down at her brother's dæmon. She was padding along, nose to the ground with her bushy red tail swishing. Rosalie felt a little jealous at beautiful fur; her own red hair was dark, almost brown, and always tangled. Tyxander sensed her mood and shifted into an ocelot in her arms, making her marvel at his beautifully patterned pelt. He gave her a rough lick on her chin with his cat tongue.

When they arrived home, the sun was already starting to set, painting the ground in long shadows. To her dismay, Rosalie's mother, Kara, was waiting in the doorway with her dæmon bristling at her feet. She did not look amused. Rosalie felt Tyxander give a frightened little mew at the sight of Kara's tiger dæmon.

"Hey, Mom!" Tyler waved and ran up to their mother before she could say anything. "Sorry we're so late. I had to ask my science teacher a question."

"Oh," Kara said, letting her surprise show. "Well, try to call or let me know next time, alright? Tajan and I were worried." Her dæmon leaned into her legs and let out a rumbling purr. Analise and Tyxander padded up to Tajan and touched noses with him. Rosalie felt a flicker of echoed happiness from her dæmon, and laughed happily as she embraced her mother.

"What's for dinner?" she queried, sniffing the air for any trace of scent.

"I'm making spaghetti," Kara responded with a pleasant smile. "You and Tyler's favorite."

Rosalie's stomach rumbled in happiness as she thought of dinner. Her mother made the best sauce in the world. "Is Dad home yet?"

Kara's face creased in worry the smallest bit. "Not yet," she answered, attempting to be nonchalant about it, though she was clearly upset. "I haven't heard from him all day."

Rosalie's father was a scientist for the government and often worked late. She didn't really know what it was that he actually did at his work since he was under oath to not reveal any data of his research, even to his family, but she was always peppering him with questions anyway just to see if he'd let anything slip.

"That's weird," Tyler commented. His dæmon looked up at him and nuzzled his leg comfortingly. Tyler stroked her thick fur absently, then walked inside the house, calling "I'm going to do my homework, alright?" over his shoulder.

"Me, too, I guess." Even to herself, her voice sounded dejected. "Tell me when Dad calls, okay?"

"Sure, honey," her mother whispered, ruffling her hair with one hand. They walked into the house together, Tyxander attempting to bait Tajan into playing. The older dæmon paid no attention to Ty's advances, keeping his yellow eyes on the doorway with his tail tip flicking, Tyxander's little ocelot paws battering him the whole way.

The inside of house was simple yet elegant. A soft couch and a few squashy armchairs filled the interior, all in a soft shade of beige. A television set dominated one wall while a line of pictures swept down the opposite side. Moving up to one, she saw that it was her family portrait from years ago. Her father, Aaron, sat in front, his mockingbird dæmon sitting on his shoulder with her beak in the air. Kara sat next to him, with one hand in Aaron's and the other on Tajan's broad shoulders. She smiled as she saw Analise wasn't fixed yet, and she had the form of a colorful-skinned lizard with her tail curled around Tyler's head.

"There's me!" Ty pointed out in his hummingbird shape. He poked his long narrow beak to the picture of himself but cat-formed. He shifted his present form to match, a long-haired black cat with green eyes. He jumped into Rosalie's arms purring.

"We were young there," Rosalie noticed. "Maybe nine or ten. I can hardly remember back that far." She reached out with one hand to touch her own smiling face.

"Rose, honey," her mother called from the kitchen. "Can you go finish up your homework?"

"Sure, Mom," she grumbled, and turned to mount the stairs and head to her room, Tyxander bounding along before her. He leapt up and gave the door handle a whack, opening it. Rosalie dropped her bag onto her bed and sunk onto her pillow. "I don't want to do geometry," she complained.

"If we do it quickly we can go play," Ty suggested, batting at a rolled up sock. He overshot it, and went soaring into the wall banging his head on the floorboards.

Rosalie winced at their shared pain. "You aren't used to being a cat," she joked. "Maybe you should be something more suited to you, like a toad."

Tyxander rushed up the bed and into her arms, shifting into a soft-furred rabbit. "Yes, but if I fixed as a toad you would be embarrassed."

Rosalie laughed. "I'll be fine with whatever you settle as," she murmured, stroking his soft ears. "Even if you are a toad or a cockroach or anything." She continued her gentle caressing. "Almost everyone else's dæmon has already fixed, haven't they? We're one of the last."

Tyxander looked up at her with a large brown eye. "Why do you want to be like everyone else?" he demanded. "We're different-- unique."

Rosalie sighed. "I know. But Tyler's dæmon fixed when he was twelve and Mom's did when she was younger than that."

Ty shifted back into a cat and pawed at her face. "We're unique," he repeated. "Don't worry about what everyone else thinks."

She hugged her dæmon close. "You're right, of course."

"Of course!" He narrowed his green eyes at her. "Now let's get that homework done, or I really will turn into a cockroach and run all over your feet until you do."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, but sat up and fished her notebook out of her bag.

Rosalie had just gotten to the last problem on her homework when she heard a car pull up in her driveway. Thinking nothing of it, she continued on, trying to remember the formula for the circumference of a circle. The doorbell rang, loud and shrill against the relative silence of her room.

Ty looked up from his curled up position at the foot of her bed, his wolf ears erect. "Someone's here," he announced unnecessarily. Normally, Rosalie would have laughed at her dæmon's lapse in attention but something held her back… a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She heard a scream from downstairs.

Rosalie sat up so fast her papers scattered. Tyxander became the black cat again, pelt bristling in panic and fear. He jumped down from the bed and raced out ahead of her as she ran out of her room in panic.

Tyler was in the hall, looking down the stairs. Analise was flattened out on the ground, her breath coming in sharp, quick pants.

"What's happening?" Rosalie asked her brother desperately. Tyler didn't respond; his face was drained of blood and his mouth was hanging open as if he had just witnessed a horrible accident.

Analise looked up from her position on the ground. "It's Aaron…" she whispered. Rosalie was too filled with horror and dismay to wonder at the fact that someone else's dæmon was speaking to her. At once, Tyxander's pelt turned pure white.

"No…" she whispered through unmoving lips. "No!" She raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. A scientist stood in the doorway, awkwardly looking at the scene in front of him. Rosalie barely glanced at him before shoving him aside in her mad rush to get to her mother.

Tajan had curled himself around Kara's slight frame as she wept, her body shuddering with the force of her emotion. Rosalie went up to her and shouted, "Mom! Mother!" and yanked at her arms, careful to avoid touching Kara's dæmon.

Kara looked up at Rosalie with a tear-stained face. "He's gone," she whispered. "He's gone." She buried her face back into Tajan's beautiful pelt, and the dæmon gave her a comforting lick on the cheek.

Rosalie turned to face the scientists loitering in the doorway. She felt too shocked by the suddenness of it all to cry. "How?" she demanded.

He bowed his head. "There was an accident at the lab," he murmured gently. "Your father was in the wrong place at the wrong time." His robin dæmon twittered and hid her beak in his short hair.

Rosalie felt her heart rate and breathing accelerate until she was hyperventilating. The room spun around her, blurring into incomprehensible shapes. Ty at her feet turned into a badger and tried to support her weight as she tilted, then slowly slid to her knees, the tears finally spilling over onto her cheeks as her dæmon tried uselessly to console her.

"Starra and Aaron," he wailed. "Gone forever!" He shifted into a mouse, his most helpless form, and curled his skinny tail around her neck. He nuzzled the back of her neck as he hid beneath her red locks.

"Who are you?" she choked out to the scientist, as if she cared.

The man dipped his head. "My name is Dr. Steward. I was a friend to your father. He was a kind and gentle man, always willing to help out others." He dropped a hand awkwardly onto her shoulders. "I'm sure he loved you and your brother very much."

The words sounded very hollow to Rosalie. "Where is he?" she rasped. "Where's my father's body?"

The scientist looked strangely nervous. "He's already at a funeral home. The paramedics took him there after…" He trailed off. His dæmon's red breast looked like the brightest thing in the world as she preened her feathers, seeming not to notice the tension in the air.

Rosalie nodded blankly. She felt as if she couldn't grasp the idea of her father being dead. It was like she was trying to grab a stone sphere covered in oil, too slick to touch even when it was sitting right in front of her.

"You can leave now," Kara said from her dæmon's embrace. "Thank you for telling us." Her voice sounded distant, as if she didn't care what she said.

Dr. Steward dipped his head, and made a quick retreat. Rosalie heard his car fade away into the distance. She scooted closer to her mother, and Kara wrapped one arm around her, keeping the other firmly on Tajan's pelt.

Kara took a shuddering breath. "We're going to be fine. We're going to be fine." She chanted over and over again like a stuck record-player.

Tyler drifted into the kitchen and sunk to the ground with the rest of his family. Analise went to Tajan and pressed her black nose into his striped fur. The tiger dæmon ran his tail down her back reassuringly.

Rosalie thought distantly over what Dr. Steward had said. Why hadn't his dæmon reflected what he said? Why did she nonchalantly smooth her feathers while he was reflecting his misery for the death of a friend? Rosalie was instantly suspicious of the seemingly sad man who had claimed to be Aaron's friend. She vowed silently to herself and to Tyxander that they would find out how exactly her father had died. She felt her dæmon's acceptance as surely as she felt her own.

Together the family sat on the floor and wished that the day had never happened in the first place.

* * *

**So... yeah. Depressing. It _will _get more cheerful though. Pinky swear! ****:D**

**Shadow**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! It is surprisingly hard to make up people's dæmons that have the proper symbolism. Lame!**

* * *

The funeral was a quick affair. Rosalie felt numb as she sat on a hard wooden pew in the church near her house, staring vacantly into space. The stain glass images of the parables and various other figures danced before her eyes like a kaleidoscope, the colors whirling into rainbow palette.

Tyxander was a rabbit, his soft brown full dull. He sat limply in her lap, not even flicking his temporary long ears like he normally would have done. Her dæmon looked purely inconsolable.

"Ty," she murmured as she stroked his fur. "What are we going to do?"

He sighed. "I don't know, Rosalie. It seems so…" He trailed off, closing his liquid-looking black eyes.

"I know," she agreed, feeling the tears want to come and trying desperately to hold them back. She had to be strong for her mother. Rosalie glanced over to where her mother sat near the tightly shut coffin. Kara was gazing blankly at the huge object, Tajan curled on the floor looking as small as Rosalie had ever seen him.

The coroner had decidedly argued against an open casket.

"His wounds cannot be covered up like I would normally do for a customer," he explained in a monotonous voice, as if all the years of doing his job had robbed him of feeling any emotion for the deceased. "It would be best for the family and loved ones not to see him like that."

Rosalie hugged her dæmon tight to her chest as she looked at the ominous-looking casket. Placed on the top between two bouquets of flowers and candles sat a picture of Starra, Aaron's mockingbird dæmon. She had her head raised proudly as usual, and her beady black eyes glinted. Rosalie knew that in Aaron's right hand rested a carving of her, so that human and dæmon could be united in death as they had in life.

Just thinking of being separated from her own dæmon sent a wave of sadness through her, and she hugged him so tight to herself that it ached. Tyxander in return changed into a bat, a flying fox to be exact, and clung to her black dress shirt with spindly fingers.

They said nothing for a long time, comforted by each other's presence.

"Rosalie?" A timid voice came from her left. Turning slowly, Rosalie saw that it was her best friend, Katie. "May I sit with you?"

Rosalie forced a smile. "Of course, Katie." She scooted over to make room for her. Katie's dæmon, a whitetail deer named Caylter stood awkwardly in the aisle trying to prevent people touching him by accident. His magnificent antlers were dipped towards Katie as if he wanted to protect her. Rosalie always wondered why Caylter had settled on such a huge form: surely it would be difficult to go places?

Katie put a comforting arm around Rosalie and murmured condolences to her. Caylter snuffled at Ty comfortingly. Ty became a deer himself, although with white spots dotting his pelt like freshly-fallen snow.

Rosalie hugged her friend close. "Thanks for coming," she whispered. "But can we go outside? I… I need some fresh air."

Katie exchanged a look with Caylter, but nevertheless followed her out the door. Katie walked in front of Caylter, trying to keep people from touching her own dear soul with their human hands. Rosalie couldn't help but marvel at the dæmon's nimbleness; he seemed to always be full of grace and pride.

Once outside, Rosalie tried to duck and avoid mourners for her father, not wanting to face more well-intended pity. Tyxander became a cat, tail twitching with irritation at being closed in by a wave of horrible sympathy. Rosalie plopped on the grass a little way away from the hustle and bustle of the funeral and waited for Katie to join her.

"So what's up?" Katie asked warily. Caylter tossed his antlers and snorted nervously. "Hush, Cayl," Katie scolded. "Come sit with me." She held out her arms to her dæmon. Caylter hesitated for a second, then folded his legs beneath him and rested his great head on Katie's lap.

Stroking Ty's cloud-soft black fur, Rosalie got right to the point. "I think my dad was murdered."

Katie gasped the same second that Caylter let out a shocked snort. "W-what?! How can you say that? He died on the job," Katie said breathlessly. "That's what that man that spoke said."

"Dr. Steward," Caylter murmured, his voice low and soft, just for Katie's ears. But Rosalie heard anyway.

"Yes. Did you see his dæmon?" Rosalie demanded, brushing away tears from her brown eyes. Tyxander let out a soft mew, and curled up tighter on her lap.

"Yeah…?" Katie sounded confused. "What about her?"

"At my house when he delivered the news, she didn't even look sad. She was fixing her feathers."

"Well, me and Cayl don't always think the same way," she said, while Caylter nodded in the background, disproving her words.

Rosalie let out an irritated sigh. "But dæmons still reflect what their human is saying or thinking," she said vehemently. "She was preening. That's just not right!" Rosalie twisted her fingers in Ty's bristling pelt. "Something's weird here."

Katie was playing with her dæmons antlers, rubbing her thumb along the smooth surface. "Maybe you're just being suspicious for nothing. His dæmon looked sad today."

Rosalie scoffed. "Probably because they practiced." Tyxander became a weasel and hissed at Caylter. The deer averted his liquid gaze nervously.

"Maybe you're right," Katie conceded, watching the interaction between the dæmons. "But maybe you should be careful what you say out loud. People might be listening."

Katie heaved herself to her feet, grasping one of Caylter's antlers for stability. "We should get back," she suggested somberly. "Your mother might be looking for you."

Rosalie didn't want to go back in there, to know that her father's cold, lifeless body was just feet away from where she sat. But she could see that Katie was just being a good friend.

Tyxander flicked his wolf tail against her legs, nuzzling her hand. Comforted, Rosalie stood and walked back inside with her friend and her beautiful dæmon.

* * *

The next week at school was terrible.

Rosalie was still dealing with her own despair for her father's death; she didn't want to have to handle all the questions from other students. Hefting her backpack to her shoulder, Tyxander hopped to her shoulder as a raven.

"I wish…" He trailed off, clicking his new beak.

She sighed and stroked the sleek feathers of his head. "I know, Ty. I miss them, too."

The night had been terrible. She kept having nightmares, twisted dark shapes writhing in her vision, images of her father and his dæmon in various poses of distress.

Starra had opened her beak and rasped, "Help us, Rosalie. You can save us."

Aaron himself was mute, his arms extended outwards as if for an embrace. But when Rosalie ran to him, the ground opened up beneath her and sent her plummeting into darkness. She had only awoken from Tyxander franticly shaking her shoulders, his eyes wide with shock at their shared terror. She had cuddled her dæmon close and trembled beneath the covers until the sun slowly rose in the gray sky.

Snapping out of her reverie, Rosalie nearly ran into another student. "Sorry," she gasped. "Oh! Hey, Dylan." She recognized the tousled brown hair of one of her close friends. "Sorry I nearly ran you over," she laughed apologetically.

Dylan grinned. "It's okay," he replied kindly. "Yuslina and I were on our way to the library." He motioned to the bright-billed toucan dæmon perched on his shoulder. Tyxander spread his wings and cawed at her, which she returned with a rather more musical cry.

"My next class is that way. I'll come with you."

Tyxander shuffled closer to her and dipped his beak to rub against her hair. "Geometry test," he reminded in his harsh raven voice.

"Oh, right," she muttered unhappily. "How'd you do on the math test?" she asked Dylan.

He scratched his head. "I think I did alright, but I can never be sure in that class. That teacher's hard to study for."

Rosalie laughed, enjoying the sound of her recently-rare laugh. "Yeah he is. Me and Tyxander studied for it yesterday for about an hour."

Dylan frowned. "I only studied for about fifteen minutes," he admitted in a low voice, dodging a clump of loitering students.

"I'm sure you did fine," Yuslina reassured him, surprising Rosalie for speaking openly in another human's presence. "We're good at math."

Dylan stroked his dæmon's beak with his thumb. "You're too optimistic," he teased.

Watching the exchange between boy and dæmon made Rosalie want to hug her own. Ty, understanding, became a wolf and padded along at her side, his silver fur shining in the fluorescent lights.

Dylan noticed. "Your dæmon still changes?" he asked incredulously.

Rosalie nodded firmly. "Yep! We're unique." She smiled to herself as she repeated her dæmon's words.

Yuslina hid her beak in Dylan's longish hair. He reached up to stroke her absently-mindedly. "Aren't you a little old for him to still change?" he asked warily.

Rosalie shrugged; Tyxander curled his lip at Yuslina, but the bird dæmon simply twisted her head to the side.

"We don't think so," Rosalie said loftily, pulling ahead of him to head to her class. "Later," she almost sneered over her shoulder.

Tyxander changed into a brown-and-white ferret and flowed up her shoulder. "People are going to think that way," he whispered. "They're just jealous that I change and their dæmons don't." He reached up with a sharp-clawed paw and brushed at her hair.

"Maybe," she murmured, feeling the usual wave of trepidation as she walked into the geometry room.

"Thanks for joining us," the teacher said grouchily. Rosalie flushed and hurried to her seat as she realized she was late. Tyxander lifted from her shoulder as a dark-colored moth. Many students giggled at his obvious show of her immaturity.

Taking her seat, Rosalie avoided everyone's gaze as the teacher, Mr. Adams, passed out the test. His dæmon, a great horned owl, gazed unblinkingly at her with large orange eyes. Ty crept under her collar as a mouse under the gaze of the rather scary dæmon.

As he walked away, the girl next to her leaned across the aisle. "That wasn't very nice of him," she whispered. "My name's Leah and this is Frithan." She gestured to the black-and-white rabbit dæmon on her lap.

Tyxander poked his mouse head out of Rosalie's shirt to gaze at him. Frithan returned the gaze warmly, flicking his lop-ears.

"I'm Rosalie," she murmured. "And this is Tyxander."

Leah smiled happily. "So your Tyxander isn't the only one that still changes." At her words, Frithan shifted into a guinea pig of the same color.

Rosalie gasped. Finally! Another girl like herself who didn't want to be like everyone else! "How--" she started, but was cut off by a raspy hoot.

Mr. Adams glared at the chatting new-found friends, his dæmon clicking her beak unhappily. "The test has begun," he hinted.

"S-sorry, Mr. Adams," Rosalie stuttered, and bent her head to start the test.

* * *

"We failed that test, Ty!" she groaned afterwards, sitting in the commons area waiting to meet Tyler. Students went on their way in either direction, their dæmons either trotting along at their feet or sitting on their shoulders. A popular girl walked past with a ragged-looking grackle dæmon perched on her right shoulder. Rosalie laughed to herself that a girl that prided herself as being pretty had such an ugly dæmon.

Watching kids her age with fixed dæmons, Rosalie turned to the now lemur-formed Tyxander and asked, "Don't you wish sometimes we knew what you were going to stay as?"

Ty stared at her with wide orange eyes. "No," he said, surprised. "We'll know one day, I suppose."

Rosalie rubbed his round ears between her fingers. Ty shifted under her touch to become a hound dog with droopy ears. He bayed in his funny new voice until Rosalie was lifted out of her glum mood. Laughing, she grabbed his long ears gently with both hands and flapped them around.

"I wouldn't mind if you stuck as something pretty," she giggled. "Maybe a peacock or a jaguar."

"Ugh," he scoffed. "As if I'd ever be a peacock. We aren't that vain."

"True," she agreed. A sudden rushing movement knocked Tyxander off his paws, making him yip in surprise. Rosalie cried out with shared shock, and reached out to grab him as he became a wildcat and leapt to her.

A laugh sounded in her ears as she saw that a fox had knocked her dæmon over. Hissing in anger, Tyxander bared his teeth at Analise, getting only a smug look from Tyler's dæmon in return.

"That wasn't funny," Rosalie spat to her brother. Tyler was doubled over in laughter; he fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around a chuckling Analise.

"It was," he argued, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "You didn't even see An coming!"

"I saw her," she growled. Tyxander became a wasp and hummed in her ear angrily. "That really hurt."

Tyler smirked. "Don't be a whiner. You need some fun with what we're going through."

Rosalie's anger vanished instantly when she grasped what her brother was getting at. Tyxander flew to the ground and became a puppy, his over-sized ears too big for his small face. She dipped and scooped up her dæmon, whispering, "Come on, Ty. Be something happier." Even to herself, her voice sounded false.

Tyxander shifted into a koala with wide, fluffy ears. He sank his thick, curved claws into her jacket. "How's this?" he asked, the soft fur of his face tickling hers. Rosalie said nothing, but pressed him even closer to her chest.

Tyler watched the exchange silently. Analise had crept closer to him and nuzzled his leg. He looked down at her softly, and rubbed the top of her head with his thumb. "Let's go, alright? Mom's going to be worried."

Tyxander shuddered. "I don't want to see Tajan angry." He buried his little face in her shirt. "He's scary enough sometimes."

As they walked out of the commons area, Rosalie let her mind wander. Her thoughts winged back to the funeral and what she had told Katie afterwards. Her friend hadn't seemed to believe her; the thought hurt Rosalie deeply. She always listened to Katie, but her friend didn't seem to respond back.

"Leah and Frithan," Ty whispered.

"Yeah, I bet we can talk to them. They're like us." Rosalie mused over the matter. Leah was the only other person her own age that still had a changing dæmon. "I'm sure we have a lot in common; more than some people," she announced loudly.

Tyler pretended not to notice, but Analise gave him away, whipping her head around to glare at Rosalie with cold, black eyes.

Happy that she had gotten to her brother, Rosalie adjusted her backpack and spent the remainder of the trip home baiting her dæmon into becoming weirder and weirder creatures.

* * *

**Somewhat nifty, eh? Whatevs! **

**R&R!**

**Shadow**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for such a slow update! I've had a mega-huge bio project to do. This chapter is mainly filler... so... enjoy? XD**

* * *

"So her dæmon changes, too!" Rosalie said happily to her mother as she peeled potatoes. Tyxander pecked at the peels as a sparrow, his little beak snipping at the skins happily.

"That's great, honey," Kara said warmly. "I'm glad that you've found a new friend." She stirred the stew was bubbling sluggishly on the stove. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she turned to face her daughter. "This Leah sounds like a nice girl. Why haven't you talked to her before?"

Rosalie sighed dramatically. "I _told _you, Mom! She's new to the class; just got transferred." Tyxander twittered down at Tajan, but the older dæmon didn't even glance up from the rug he was curled up on.

She peeled the last potato and handed them to her mother. _She seems distracted, _she mused. _She must still be grieving. _

_Like us, _Tyxander thought to her. He leapt to the ground as an otter, his thick tail making a loud smack on the tile floor. He nipped at her feet playfully.

"Why don't you invite her over tomorrow?" Kara asked. "It's Saturday; we won't be doing anything."

Rosalie pursed her lips. "Maybe." She grabbed Tyxander's tail and gave it a sharp tug then ran out of the room, hearing his clawed paws scrabble unevenly over the floor. "Can't catch me!" She flung open the door and dashed out the door towards the thick clump of woods behind her house.

"That's what _you _think!" A paw scooped her legs out from under her. She fell, gasping, to the ground, and turned around to glare at her dæmon. He flicked his spotted cheetah tail happily. "You can't outrun me!" he crowed. "Never ever!"

She aimed a playful whack at his shoulder, but he leapt out of range. Turning into a kestrel faster than she could blink, he flapped several feet in the air and hovered there.

"Can't go as high as me!" he challenged, fluttering around in circles.

"We'll see!" she retorted, jumping and grabbing at his tail feathers.

He laughed and flew higher, caught off-guard by a swift gust of wind, so high that Rosalie began to feel pain in her chest at their separation. "Come back!" she cried unhappily, reaching in the air for him. He came readily enough, feeling the sadness and pain, too. He changed halfway through the fall and dropped into her arms as a raccoon.

He burrowed his black-masked face into her sweater and she pulled him close. "Didn't mean to go that high," he muttered brokenly, panting as if he had been running hard.

"It's okay," she breathed into his gray fur. "Let's not do that again, alright?" They dropped into the soft grass together.

Tyxander became a cobra and curled his long, sinuous body into the sun-warmed grass beside her. "I wonder what would happen if we went too far away?" he mused in a strangled-sounding hiss. He flicked out his newly-found tongue and tasted the air.

Rosalie shuddered at the thought. "I don't want to think about that," she responded. She draped her arm across his hooded neck. "I couldn't bear to be apart from you."

He flicked her arm with his forked tongue. "Me either," he joked, laughing in a whispery hiss.

Rosalie laughed with him, more at the funny voice he was talking in than anything else. "I wonder if people can live without their dæmons?"

Tyxander shifted into a bright-winged butterfly and floated around her head. "I can't see how," he said as he landed on a nearby weed. "I mean, what _is _a person without their dæmon? Nothing," he answered his own question. "A person can't be a person without a dæmon, and a dæmon can't be a dæmon without a person."

"We're inseparable." She lifted her hand for him to perch on. He slowly lifted and raised his wings. "But I wonder…" She trailed off.

Ty became a wildcat and stared at her with piercing yellow eyes. "You wouldn't want that, would you?" he asked curiously. "Don't you like me?" he joked, but his eyes were serious.

Rosalie scoffed. "Don't be stupid, Ty," she grumbled. "I _love _you! You _are _me. If I didn't love you, I'd hate myself." She paused. "But what if we could go separate? Like, be in two places at once?"

"Separate?" he repeated incredulously. "You're worrying me now, Rosalie." He padded softly closer and snuffled at her face, his whiskers tickling her nose. "I know what you're thinking, but it's a bad idea. We belong together. We were born together, and we'll die together."

Rosalie sighed. "No we won't, Ty. Dæmons disappear when a person dies, remember? We'd be alone." She felt a pang of sadness at the thought of being separated permanently from him: the other half of her soul.

Tyxander drew himself up. "We won't be alone," he said strongly. "Not ever. I'll go to the same place that you do. I'll always be with you and you'll always be with me."

She smiled faintly, but didn't argue with him. "You're very wise," she pointed out. "Maybe you'll be an owl."

He changed into an owl, a barn owl with a starkly white face and contrastingly dark eyes. "How do I look?" he asked, preening his feathers. "Do I make a good owl?"

"Maybe you'll stick that way," she teased. "Better be careful." He quickly shifted in succession: crow, wolf, leopard, finally settling as a ferret. "Don't count on it." He stood up and shook his brown fur. "I thought we were going to play," he said. "Not talk all serious about death and stuff. We're only thirteen, anyway."

"We'll be grown-up soon enough," she said disappointedly. "Then we'll have to think about it."

"Well, let's worry about that later," he retorted, flicking into his wolf form. "Come one already!" He took a few steps backwards, wagging his tail invitingly. "Let's race! I may even let you win this time."

Rosalie giggled. "You _always _win, Ty!" she said, but started to chase after her dæmon all the same.

Once dinner was over with, Rosalie headed back up to her room yawning and stretching. Tyxander rushed ahead of her as a cat, his favorite sleeping form, and leapt onto the bed, already curling up on the soft blankets.

"Mom sure makes good dinner," Rosalie said with another yawn.

Tyxander's only reply was a sleepy mew. He flicked his tail and purred as he curled even tighter.

Rosalie ruffled his soft black fur before turning to locate some pajamas. "I wonder if we should invite Leah over," she mused aloud. "We don't really know her that well, though."

"Well, her and Frithan are like us," he pointed out for probably the fifth time.

Rosalie twisted her lips but said nothing. She changed quickly into her favorite soft blue pajamas. She shivered in the cold air, and quickly tucked underneath her covers.

Tyxander scooted underneath the blanket with her and pressed himself as close as he could to her, yawning so wide he showed almost every sharp tooth in his cat mouth. Curling his tail over his nose, he said softly, "I've been thinking…"

Rosalie, who had been just nodding off, pulled back her eyelids to peer down at him. "About what?" she asked confusedly, clearly at a loss.

Tyxander squirmed uncomfortably. Rosalie could feel the echo of his feelings herself and wrapped an arm around him.

"What is it, Ty?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

"It's about that doctor and his dæmon. I think… I think we should look him up."

"What?" She sat up suddenly. "Look up on him?" she asked incredulously. "Like, read his files or something?"

He nodded, turning to meet her eyes. His own green gaze shone with reflected light from the window. Reaching out with one paw, he gently kneaded her arm with his claws, soothing her. "I've been thinking about what he said at the funeral and what he told us when he delivered the news," he admitted. "And his dæmon: how she didn't show any feeling? Maybe we didn't look into it enough."

"We told Katie about it," she reminded him. "She didn't think anything of it."

"But maybe that's because Caylter's fixed."

Rosalie paused. "You think this has to do with dæmons?" she asked, confused.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm not sure. I think we should find out what Aaron's company did. What the scientists researched. Whatever it is," he went on in a hushed tone, "it was something that him and Starra weren't allowed to talk about ever."

"We did ask them a lot," Rosalie realized. "And they never told us."

Tyxander nodded. "I think we should talk to that scientist again-- see what he was talking about."

Rosalie shook her head. "He wouldn't tell us, Ty, even if we begged."

His cat eyes shone. "I think we should go check that place out."

She stared at her dæmon. "Are you sure, Ty?" she asked, uncertain if he was joking. "I mean," she clarified, "we just can't go barging into a lab."

Tyxander sat up straight to look her in the eye. "You feel the same as me," he accused. "I can tell you do. Don't you want to know what happened? Don't you think this whole situation is weird?" He paused. "I think that Aaron was murdered same as you, and we need to find out what happened."

In those few sentences, Tyxander summed up everything that Rosalie was wondering, thoughts so deeply hidden she knew she couldn't tell anyone but her own dæmon. Wrapping her arms around him, she murmured, "You really _are _wise."

His whiskers tickled her face as he rubbed against her chin, a loud purr rising from his furry body. "I know," he said lightly, flicking her arm with his tail. "Now let's go to sleep," he muttered, curling back up. "I'm exhausted from that math test."

Stifling a giggle, Rosalie settled back down with one arm draped across her dæmon, holding his heart close to her own, and wishing that she could be as confident as him.

* * *

**So I was zoning in French class (again) today and was thinking of if the characters in the Twilight saga had dæmons. If a dæmon is part of being alive, would the vampires have dæmons? And would Bella have had to give up her dæmon to be with Edward, since she says in book 2 that she loves him more than her own soul?**

**These are the questions that haunt me...**

**XDDD**

**Shadow**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yaaay! New chapter! And here, my readers (if there are any :( ), is where the plot thickens!**

* * *

The huge gray building loomed in front of Rosalie as she hesitated in the entrance. It was easily five stories high and stretched out in either direction for a block.

Tyxander twisted around her neck. "'Department for Sedology and Study,'" he read out loud to her. "Sedology means…?"

"I dunno," she admitted. "'-ology' means study, though. Dad _was _a scientist." She felt a pang of sadness wash through her at the usage of past tense in reference to her father.

Tyxander nuzzled at her neck, feeling, it too. "Well, let's go in," he said confidently. He leapt from her shoulders and landing lightly on the ground as a clouded leopard for politeness. He glanced up at her with amber cat eyes. "Come on!" he said impatiently. "Let's go already!"

Reaching down to rest her hand on his head, she started walking towards the door with trepidation. She had located the name of the building in one of her father's old work papers that had been lying on his desk. She wasn't even completely sure if this was the right place. Walking through the automated doors, Rosalie sucked in an astonished breath at the sight in front of her.

The lobby of the lab was huge and lavishly decorated with two-story windows and pillars with gold-gilded images of humans and dæmons intertwined with leaves and feather patterns. A wide, sweeping oak desk dominated the entire front of the room, leaving the side by the windows to be occupied with soft armchairs and small tables with magazines covering the tops.

A short blonde-haired woman with sharp green eyes sat behind the massive desk, single-mindedly typing on a sleek silver computer. She didn't even look up until Rosalie shuffled awkwardly in front of her.

"Yes?" she asked, polite but strained. "Are you looking for your parents?" Her dæmon, a small green parrot, tilted his head as he eyed Tyxander. Ty tossed his spotted head scornfully at the little bird.

"No," Rosalie said timidly. "I'm actually looking for a scientist."

"Name?" the woman, Abigail Nelson by her nametag, asked in a bored tone.

"Dr. S-steward," she stuttered. Tyxander glared up at her, irritated by her hesitation.

The woman looked up and seemed to pay attention for the first time. "Why do you want to see Dr. Steward?" she demanded. "What's he to you?"

Rosalie felt Tyxander bristle at the woman's rude words, but she dropped a hand to his shoulders in warning. "He was a friend of my father," she explained calmly.

The woman didn't look impressed. "And is your father?" she asked shrilly.

Finally getting annoyed, Rosalie retorted, "Can I just please see Dr. Steward? It's kind of important."

The woman curled her lip. The dæmon on her shoulder lifted his wings and let out a piercing whistle. "I'm afraid you'll need an appointment," she simpered. "Dr. Steward is a very busy man."

Tyxander finally couldn't hold himself back. Leaping onto the table, he bared his snow-white fangs and let out a fierce snarl.

The woman's dæmon swooned against her neck, and she scooped him up with one hand, she herself letting out a shocked gasp. "Control yourself!" she spat to Rosalie. "This is not a place for tantrums!"

"Let us see Dr. Steward," Rosalie insisted. "We _need _to! My father was Dr. Brown, and he used to work here!"

The woman instantly froze, her dæmon widening his button eyes. "Dr. Brown?" she repeated in a quavering voice. "_Aaron _Brown?"

"Yes." Rosalie was caught off-guard by her strange change in behavior. "Did you know him?"

But the woman wasn't listening; she was too busy stroking the green feathers of her dæmon and whispering to him.

Rosalie cleared her throat to no effect. "Let's go, Ty," she said contemptuously. "We'll have to come back later."

Tyxander shifted into a fruit bat, a huge black flying fox with a ginger neck, and flew to latch his spindly fingers into her shirt.

"Wait!"

Rosalie couldn't believe her eyes as she turned to look back at the woman. "Are you going to let me see Dr. Steward?" she asked, half-expecting the woman to turn her away again.

"No…I-I'll go tell him that Dr. Brown's daughter is here," she said shakily. The parrot dæmon gave Tyxander a hasty-sounding chirrup before lifting off from his person's shoulder and flitting in front of her into another room.

Rosalie and Tyxander waited in silence for a few seconds. "That," Rosalie rasped, "was very, very weird."

"They know something about Aaron! Something that made her change her mind," Tyxander pointed out. "Not just the fact that he worked here, I don't think." He crawled up her shirt and onto her shoulder. He spread his four-foot wide wingspan, burying his face in her hair.

A few minutes later, Dr. Steward bustled into the room adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses on his thin nose. He smiled slightly when he saw Rosalie loitering awkwardly. Holding out a hand, he said warmly, "It's nice to see you again, Rosalie. Especially under better circumstances than the last time we met."

Rosalie shook his hand briefly, her eyes wandering to Dr. Steward's dæmon curiously; the robin dæmon was watching Tyxander with wide, bright eyes, fluttering her wings a little.

"It's nice to see you, too, Dr. Steward," Rosalie said politely. "I've been wanting to speak to you."

"So Abigail told me." His voice was friendly, but Rosalie didn't miss the way his eyes strayed to the back room where the receptionist disappeared; she had not yet returned. "Why don't we step into my office? That is, if you're not in a rush."

"No," Rosalie said firmly. "I need to ask you some questions."

He dipped his head. "Very well." He turned and led the way to the back wall where an elevator door was.

"Keep an eye on his dæmon," she whispered hastily to Tyxander.

"I will. You keep an eye on him," he retorted, only half-teasing.

"So how have you been, Rosalie?" Dr. Steward asked conversationally. "Are you having fun in school?"

She let out a hollow laugh. "Oh yeah," she said sarcastically. "School's a _blast_."

Dr. Steward laughed with her. "I never liked school either," he admitted, his dæmon tilting her head this way and that to look at Tyxander. "But my favorite subject was always science. That's why I became a researcher," he told her as he pressed the button for the top floor.

"Oh," she responded, not sure of what to say. Tyxander gave her a rough nudge with his long snout.

"Ask him," he whispered.

"Wait, Ty," she snapped softly.

"Is there something the matter?" Dr. Steward asked. His dæmon still had not looked away from Tyxander.

"Nothing," Rosalie said hastily. "We were just talking."

"I see." They didn't speak again until they were behind the closed door of Dr. Steward's office. The room was quite large, but rather dull. The walls were a pale beige color reminiscent of very milky coffee, and only a large, dark desk and a pair of armchairs filled the room.

The robin dæmon lifted from the scientist's shoulder and flew to an intricate brass perch next to his desk. She quickly smoothed her red breast feathers, making small chirrups.

Settling down beside her, Dr. Steward folded his hands together on top of the desk. "Now," he said, clearing his throat. "What can I help you with?"

Tyxander crawled from her shoulder to her lap, still as a fruit bat. Rosalie twisted her fingers into his short fur, running her hands over his thin wing membranes as she hesitated. Ty gave her a quick nip, prompting her to speak.

"I want to know…what it was that my father did here."

Dr. Steward looked surprised, but hid it so quickly Rosalie wasn't sure if she had seen it in the first place. "Why, we research sedology, of course."

"But what _is _sedology?" she pressed. "My dad never told me what he did. He said it was a secret."

"It is, but I can describe the basics to you, I suppose."

At once, his dæmon flew to his shoulder again and whispered frantically in his ear, her black eyes darting to Rosalie more than once.

He waved her away with one hand. "It's alright. I know we can trust her," he consoled her.

The dæmon widened her eyes, but fluttered back to her post all the same, turning her tail feathers to him and clicking her beak unhappily.

Dr. Steward turned back to Rosalie and let out a faint smile. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "Even after all our studies, we still don't understand why dæmons do what they do."

Rosalie nodded, unsure of where he was going. Tyxander struggled to right himself, hooking his fingers into her shirt and turning his head upside-down to catch a glimpse of the scientist.

Dr. Steward watched her dæmon with an unfathomable expression before sighing. "You see?" he asked. "Dæmons are unpredictable. That's what sedology is, Rosalie. The study of dæmons."

Rosalie gasped. "You…study dæmons?" she asked curiously. "You don't…_touch _them, do you?"

Instantly, a repulsed look crossed Dr. Steward's face. "Heavens, _no._" He shuddered, just like the way Rosalie was. To touch another person's dæmon was the vilest breech of privacy and humanity conceivable. "We study fixation of dæmons. The word 'sedology' comes from the Greek 'sed-' which means 'settle.' Like in sediment," he added helpfully. "We're trying to find out what makes them settle and why; the very _trigger _of a dæmon's final form."

"Wow," Rosalie breathed. "But how is that helpful to anyone?"

"How is learning about new species on the bottom of the world's deepest oceans helpful to anyone?" he countered. "It's just new information that makes us think and wonder."

"So, my dad was a dæmon researcher?" Tyxander blinked in surprise.

Dr. Steward nodded rapidly, sending his glasses askew. "Yes, indeed he was. He was my partner, my labmate, so to say." His eyes clouded. "He was a very good friend."

Suddenly wanting to leave before he mentioned her father anymore, Rosalie stood up. "Thank you for your help, Dr. Steward." She held out her hand.

He smiled again and shook her hand gently. "Thank you for coming in. It's always nice to see youngsters in here learning."

_But it's not very nice to talk to _certain_ people in this lab, _she thought glumly, an image of a blonde woman with a parrot dæmon in her mind's eye. She felt Tyxander's silent approval for her words.

Heading to the door, she turned and waved to him. "I can find my own way out," she said. "Thanks again."

Dr. Steward gave her a wave in return. His dæmon did not turn around, even though she could clearly hear them leaving.

Tyxander turned into an owl in a flicker of motion.

Dr. Steward let out a little gasp. "Your dæmon still changes?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," Rosalie said slowly, unsure of his sudden change.

"That's very rare," he went on, eyes wide and locked on her dæmon. "How old are you, Rosalie?"

"Thirteen."

"Thirteen," he echoed softly. His dæmon turned around and flew to his shoulder again.

Rosalie hesitated in the doorway. "Well…bye," she said awkwardly, stepping out into the hall before he could ask any more questions. "That was weird," she said to Ty, who dropped to the ground as a cheetah.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I wonder what that was all about. He seemed _way _too interested in us. And did you see his dæmon? She was really ticked that he told us what they did there." He flattened his black ears. "This whole place makes me uneasy," he growled. "I think we shouldn't come back here again."

"I agree," she sighed as the elevator let out a small ding and the doors parted. The receptionist was back, but she didn't lift her head as Rosalie passed. Tyxander let out a soft snarl and raised his hackles; the little parrot dæmon's beak dropped and he fainted again.

Lifting his head, Tyxander led the way out of the building, his spotted tail flicking happily from side-to-side and leaving Rosalie to ponder the strangeness that the department building radiated, seeming as palpable as heat and nearly as dangerous.

* * *

**I know that there are at least _some _people reading this fic, so R&R! Seriously, I don't bite. :P**

**Shadow**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow. It's been a really long time, hasn't it? -looks away guiltily- I've been working almost solely on my Warriors fics, so this one got pushed to the back burner. Sorry!**

**I'll make an effort to update this one more because, believe it or not, I actually do have a pretty extensive plot laid out. ^^**

* * *

"Rosalie Brown!"

Rosalie snapped her head up from her desk as Mr. Adams called her name. His great horned owl dæmon had her orange eyes narrowed and she opened her beak and let out an annoyed hiss.

"Y-yes?" she stuttered, raising one hand to her face to rub at the red spot she knew was there from laying on top of her book. "Yes?"

Mr. Adams sighed. "I will speak to you after class about this, Rosalie. You _cannot _be sleeping in my class—I will not allow it."

Rosalie felt tears of embarrassment sting her eyes as the class turned to snicker and point at her behind the teacher's back. She looked down sightlessly down at her textbook as Mr. Adams turned back to the board.

She hadn't sleep well since two days previously when she and Tyxander had gone to see Dr. Steward in the Department of Sedology. Thoughts of her father and the scientists and what exactly they _did _there made her head whirl. She had only just put her head down on her algebra book, it seemed, before the teacher was calling her out.

"It's okay, Rosalie." Leah leaned across the aisle to pat Rosalie's arm. "He's a mean teacher anyway." Frithan on her lap flicked his long rabbit ears at Tyxander comfortingly. "Me and Frith hate this class."

Rosalie smiled at her. "Thanks, Leah," she whispered back.

Leah grinned in return, then made a shushing gesture and pointed to the teacher, who had walked up to the board to do a problem. Rosalie watched uncomprehendingly as he worked through the numbers, occasionally drawing squiggly Greek letters.

"Everyone, please turn to page forty-seven and do numbers one through fifteen." Mr. Adams glanced up to the clock on the wall. "You have the remainder of class time to finish, but I want a paper from everyone at the end of class."

A chorus of agreement rose from the students, and books creaked as they opened to the correct page.

Tyxander crept up her neck as a mouse and sat in the middle of the page. He leaned down and narrowed his beady black eyes. "I think we need to divide here," he murmured, flicking his long tail to a math problem.

Rosalie looked down at the problem: 4x + 3y = 20. "How do you think that?" Rosalie asked him scathingly. "Were you listening to the same thing I was?"

Tyxander glared up at her—a strangely mad expression to be seen on his cutely fluffy face. "I was actually paying attention," he squeaked gruffly. "You should try it some time."

Rosalie flicked him irritably; he fell over on his side with a startled squeak, his brown fur ruffled. "Stop being a know-it-all."

He sat up and began grooming his short fur with quick licks. "You need to pay attention so we stop getting bad grades," he repeated. "I can't always help out with everything."

"Don't act like I rely on you for all our classes," she snapped. "I do perfectly fine in bio and French!" She picked up her pen and began to dutifully write down the math problem, each stroke of the pen gouging deep cuts in the paper. She was unnecessarily, she realized, but she was too upset to apologize.

Tyxander didn't say anything. He just looked up at her with his whiskers twitching like he was going to laugh. He shuffled off the math page and ran up to her shoulder, changing quickly into a barn owl when he got there. His sharp talons squeezed her shoulder gently, and Rosalie closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

The rest of the class passed by slowly, each tick of the big clock on the wall seeming like an eternity. Rosalie's stomach was in knots as the end of the period drew near. Tyxander kept flicking into new forms in his irritation—hawk, wolf, rabbit, cobra.

"Rosalie, if I may speak with you?" Mr. Adams called from across the room.

Leah gave her a sympathetic glance. "Good luck with him," she murmured as she picked up her bag. Frithan flickered into an osprey and gripped her shoulder with his black talons. His white-crested head glinted under the fluorescent lights as he dipped his head to Ty.

"Bye!" he said cheerfully as Leah walked out the door. He fluttered his black-and-white wings as a sudden gust of wind from the open door blew him off balance.

Dread building in her chest, Rosalie quickly gathered her things and shoved them into her bag quickly. She took a deep breath, then approached the teacher's desk.

Mr. Adams's dæmon was perched on a stone bracket behind his desk. Rosalie had seen such brackets in her other classes—they were close enough that if the teacher had a bird dæmon, he or she wouldn't have to ride around on their person's shoulder the whole day. She clicked her sharp beak as she approached, and Tyxander quickly twisted his head around to break eye contact.

"So, Rosalie? What's the excuse?" Mr. Adams folded his arms across his chest and stared her down.

"Er…what?"

"Your excuse for sleeping in my class. Are you staying up too late?" He narrowed his eyes. "Am I a boring teacher?"

"No, no!" Rosalie quickly shook her head. "It's nothing!"

Mr. Adams pursed his lips and rested one hand in his dæmon's autumn-colored plumage. "Do you need to speak with a consoler or somebody?"

Tyxander squeezed her shoulder just slightly. "No," she answered. "I'm fine. I'm just a little tired, but I won't sleep in this class again."

Mr. Adams stared at her almost as piercingly as his dæmon. "Alright," he agreed. He waved his hand towards the door. "You are excused."

"Thank you," she replied hastily, shuffling out the door before he could call her back.

Leah was waiting outside. "Hey," she greeted. "We didn't want to leave you guys in there alone."

Rosalie grinned. "Thanks, but we didn't even get in trouble." Tyxander dropped to the ground and became a brown-furred ferret, flicking his thick tail at Frithan. Leah's dæmon let out a little mew of excitement and also turned into a ferret, but a pure white one.

Watching the two dæmons play, Rosalie felt a little calmer. She sighed and ran a hand through her tangled reddish-brown hair. She settled down on the long grass just outside the classroom as the students prepared to go home for the evening.

"Is anything going on?" Leah asked her, keeping her eyes on her dæmon. "Anything you want to talk about?" She flopped onto the ground next to Rosalie.

Rosalie was sorely tempted to tell her all about sedology, but something held her back. "Not really," she answered at last. "I'm still depressed about my dad." A wave of sadness washed over her at the thought of her father.

"I'm sorry," Leah said gently. "You must miss him terribly."

Rosalie leaned back and closed her eyes. "I really do," she whispered.

A soft paw whacked at her knee, and Tyxander leapt into her lap, shifting into the familiar black cat. His green eyes glittered as he looked up at her and let out a purr. She twisted her fingers in his warm, soft fur.

Leah's Frithan curled up at her feet as a massive wolfhound. She spared him an affectionate glance. "We've been worried about this school. I didn't know if we would fit in here because Frithan still changes. My mother always told me that her dæmon settled when she was 12—right after my grandmother died." Leah's eyes grew distant. "She had to grow up fast to take care of her younger brothers—my uncles."

"Oh." Rosalie didn't know what to say to Leah's sudden mood change.

Leah shook out her light brown hair. "She told me that she had to grow up so fast that her dæmon just stuck. She always wanted me to grow up at my own pace because of that." Leah laughed. "I don't ever want to grow up! Me and Frithan want to be able to change how we like forever!"

Rosalie joined in on her laughter, but her mind was elsewhere. Did she want to grow up really? She looked down at Ty, who was batting at his own tail. Did she want him to be in this singular form for the rest of her life?

Leah glanced up at the sky. "My parents are going to be wondering where I am," she said, standing and brushing off her jeans. Frithan leapt to her shoulder as a bright-winged butterfly. "See you later!" she said cheerfully, waving as she set off.

Rosalie watched her go, her thoughts churning. "Wait!" she called. "Leah, wait!"

Leah turned around, looking confused.

Rosalie ran up to her. "Your mother," she panted. "What is your mother's dæmon?"

Leah looked even more bewildered. "He's a moth," she answered. "A little speckled moth." She tilted her head slightly.

"Ah. Okay, see you tomorrow!" She turned away quickly before Leah could see her expression. She could feel her friend's confused expression glued to her back the whole time, and quickly hurried out of view and towards the meeting place with Tyler. _Her dæmon is a moth,_ she told herself. _You don't want to grow up that quickly and have Tyxander stuck as a moth, do you? _She shook her head sharply.

Tyxander flicked his cheetah tail irritably. "You need to calm down about this whole settling business," he growled. "You're getting obsessed."

"I just want to know!" she insisted. "What you are decided what kind of person I am. What if I'm a boring moth person?"

Ty laughed. "You aren't," he purred, butting her leg with his forehead. "I think I know how we are, Rosalie."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Maybe. But I need to know what kind of person I'm going to grow up to be!"

Tyxander rolled his eyes. "You worry too much," he scolded her, flittering into the air on red-tailed hawk wings. His sharp yellow eyes caught every movement as he hovered over Rosalie's head. "You need to calm down. You can't go through life worrying how everything's going to turn out. Surprises are the best part of life."

She looked up at him with a smirk. "I really think you're going to be an owl."

He glared down at her. "I won't," he said firmly. "I couldn't stand being a bird." He turned into a wolf to prove his point.

She dropped a hand onto his silky, warm head, feeling the strength in his hard bones and lean muscles. "I really love you, Ty."

He grinned a wolf's smile up at her. "I love you, too, Rose." He licked her hand like a natural wolf and wagged his bushy white tail. "But I'm still not going to do your math homework for you!"

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**So...bad? Good? Gimme some feedback on it! Nothing really happened in this chapter, but things will pick up! Promise!**

**This fic is going to be about 20 chapters long, just to fill you in. ^^ I'mma put some serious foreshadowing in the next chapter, so look out for it!**

**R&R!**

**Shadow**


	6. Chapter 6

**See? That wasn't that long of a wait, eh? ^^**

**Oh, there's a time lapse in this chapter, so let's say that about three months or so have passed since the last chapter. :D**

**Enjoy!**

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A bitterly cold breeze buffeted Rosalie as she walked down the street and towards the Department of Sedology. A plain piece of white paper was crumpled in her gloved fist as she pushed back her hood to look up at the buildings around her.

Tyxander slithered out from around her neck and stuck his cobra tongue out. "Why are we doing this?" he demanded in a whispery hiss. "This is really stupid."

Rosalie reached up with one hand to stroke his smooth, black scales. "Hush, Ty. Dr. Steward sent us this letter." She flapped the wrinkled paper in the air. "It must be something important."

Tyxander wasn't convinced. "Even after what happened last time, we're still going to go there? I got the creeps just looking at the place!"

Impatient now, Rosalie smoothed out the letter and read it aloud. "'To Miss Rosalie Brown from the Department of Sedology in Denver, Colorado. I have located some papers of importance that might be of some comfort to you after the loss of your father. Dr. Brown and I were close friends and teammates in this field of research, and he entrusted me with these files to give to his family. I hope to see you soon. Dr. Steven Steward.'"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Tyxander insisted. "Why didn't he give them to us last time we were there, huh? What if this is a trap or something?"

Rosalie looked at his beady red eyes with affection. "You're too suspicious," she told him, refolding the paper and placing it in her jacket pocket. "He probably just didn't have them ready for us, since we came so unexpectedly."

Tyxander flared his hood and hissed. "Yeah, right," he replied dispassionately, shivering the cold. "I hate this weather," he grumbled. "Soon there'll be feet of snow on the ground."

Rosalie laughed. "Sounds like fun to me!" She reached behind her and tucked Tyxander's long, winding body back inside the warmth of her hood. "Just stay here. Why don't you be a fox or something? Something with thick fur."

"I'm too tired to do anything," was the mumbled reply. She felt him shift around until he was wrapped around her neck snugly. "Snakes don't like the cold."

"Well, you shouldn't have been a snake, then," she retorted, all the while staring up at the gray sky. She loved living here where it snowed so much—it was so much fun to go and romp in the snow and have snowball fights. Her father used to help her and Tyler make snow houses when she was younger—small lopsided things that were more likely to drop right on top of you than to stay up. A pang of sadness and wistfulness coursed through her.

Tyxander nuzzled the back of her neck with his scaly nose, and Rosalie felt a little more heartened.

The familiar gray building loomed into view, and Rosalie prodded her sleepy dæmon. "We're here," she announced. "Come and look."

"I will when we get in the heat," he grumbled.

Smiling, Rosalie stepped towards the building as confidently as she could and opened the big glass doors. The room was still the same with its huge gilded pillars and dark oak reception desk. The same woman with her parrot dæmon was sitting behind the desk, typing away at the computer.

She looked up with a forced smile as Rosalie walked up. "Good morning, Miss Brown," she greeted stiffly, getting to her feet. "Dr. Steward is waiting for you."

Tyxander uncurled himself from Rosalie's hood to rear his head back. He swayed back and forth hypnotically as the little green parrot watched with unblinking eyes. He crept back to his hiding spot, laughing in his sibilant voice.

The receptionist looked as enraptured as her dæmon. She blinked rapidly, reaching up to stroke her dæmon's green feathers. "Right…right this way, please," she choked out. She set off, not towards the elevator like last time, but towards a plain black door off the side room.

"Good one, Ty," Rosalie whispered to him, raising a fist up to him.

Tyxander bumped his nose into her hand, flicking out his forked tongue. "I try."

The receptionist pulled a key card out of her pocket and swiped it down a machine. Twin steel doors smoothly slid open, leading into a lab-like room. "Dr. Steward is waiting back there." She gestured vaguely to the opposite side of the room.

"Thank you," Rosalie said, giving her a slight smile.

The woman looked once more at her dæmon before walking outside the steel doors. The slid shut behind her with a shockingly loud hiss.

There was total silence in the room after she left. No other scientists worked in this lab—or at least, they weren't at this time. Beakers and flasks lined the shelves of the rooms neatly, interspaced with canisters of pipettes, cotton balls, tongue depressors, and—to her slight shock—what looked like hypodermic needles.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

Tyxander quietly crept out and shifted silently to a ferret on her shoulder. He looked around at all the equipment—the scales, the jars of preserved animals—and let out a muted growl. "This place gives me the creeps," he repeated, as he had when they first came in. "Let's go find him, then."

Rosalie didn't want to. She wanted to turn around and bang on the door, demanding to be let out of this place. As much as she wanted to know what her father did at this place, and how they studied dæmons, she couldn't gather what little courage she had and walk through this room.

Tyxander pushed her dark, reddish-brown hair out of her face and licked her cheek. "Come on," he murmured softly. "We can do it."

Rosalie nodded, taking a deep breath. "If they study dæmons here, why do they have all this equipment?" Nausea roiled in her stomach as she realized the answer. "They hurt them," she gasped. "They must hurt dæmons!"

Tyxander focused his beady eyes on a large flask. It had the word "Dawson" written on it in a messy script. It was empty. "Maybe this is an off-branch of the department," he suggested. "Maybe they test vaccines here or something. We shouldn't be making assumptions until we meet with the doctor."

Rosalie gulped. "Maybe." Finally, she began to hear some noises: several people talking in low voices. "Hello?" she called.

Around the corner, a man poked his face out. "Ah! You must be Rosalie," he said happily. He extended a hand to her. "My name is Dr. Collins!"

She took his hand warily, noticing that he looked rather young to be a scientist.

He laughed, as if he had read her thoughts. "I went to college and got my doctorate early," he told her conversationally, pulling her around the corner and into a well-lit room. "I'm actually only seventeen." He turned to smile at her, his dark blue eyes glittering.

"Really?" she asked, shocked. "Are you a genius or something?"

He laughed. "No, no. I just took a lot of courses very early."

"And you work here?" Rosalie asked. "You wanted to work here?" She tried to imagine seeing this teenager working with dæmons.

Dr. Collins nodded happily. "My parents both work here as scientists. They've been not-so-subtly pushing me into this field for as long as I can remember." He ran a hand through his tousled dark brown hair. "Come to think of it, I've never really thought of doing anything else."

Tyxander leaned over and whispered, "Where's his dæmon?" in her ear, his black eyes flitting all over the room.

Rosalie felt stunned. Where _was_ his dæmon? They had been talking for five minutes or so and there had been no sight of her. "Um…where—"

"Jay! Where have you been?" An older bald man in a white coat leaned around the corner. "They've been waiting for you to…" He trailed off as he caught site of Rosalie.

"Dr. Richards, this is Miss Brown. Miss Brown, Dr. Richards." Dr. Collins waved his hand back and forth between them, a slight grin on his face.

Dr. Richards stood and shook Rosalie's hand. "It's nice to finally meet one of Aaron's kids," he said, smiling under his mustache. "He talked about you kids all the time." A black-furred squirrel peeked over the top of his head, flicking her tail quickly. She let out a chittering sound and disappeared.

Rosalie smiled, more at ease in this warmer room than in the silent lab behind her. "It's nice to meet you too, sir," she replied. Tyxander kept himself hidden, strangely enough.

"Are you too warm, Miss Brown?" Dr. Collins inquired. "I can take your coat, if you'd like."

Tyxander gave her a swift poke with his snout—a warning.

"Uh, no, that's okay." She smiled so she wouldn't hurt his feelings. "I'm fine for now. Is Dr. Steward around? He sent me this note." She pulled the wrinkled paper out of her pocket and handed it to him.

Dr. Collins frowned as he read over the paper, his dark blue eyes focused. A glistening black scorpion crawled slowly out of his chest pocket and up to the side of his neck, where it sat unnervingly still.

"Is that…" Rosalie trailed off, pointing to his neck.

Dr. Collins looked up, confused. "Ah, you must mean her." He gestured with his free hand to the scorpion. "My dæmon isn't the usual type, is she? I guess most people have fluffy, soft ones." He nodded to Tyxander with a smile.

"No, no. She's…er, pretty."

He laughed again—even Dr. Richards joined in. "It's okay," Dr. Collins chuckled. "You don't have to think she's beautiful. I do, though. I love scorpions." He gently pulled her off his neck and stroked her. She twisted under his fingers and softly closed her pincers on his finger.

Rosalie reached back, almost unconsciously, and stroked Tyxander's ferret head under her hood. "So, is Dr. Steward here?"

"Oh, yeah," Dr. Richards answered, stretching his arms above his head. "Working hard, as usual." He waved his hand towards a large tank—several thousand gallons—half-filled with water. "We just got a client out of here a few minutes ago."

"A…client?" Rosalie asked warily.

"Ah! Rosalie!" Dr. Steward came almost bouncing into the room, his robin dæmon gripping his shoulder tightly. Just like last time, she was glaring at Tyxander—or rather, the place where Tyxander crouched, hidden—with beady black eyes. "It's so nice to see you again. I see you got my letter!"

"Yes. Do you have the papers?" Rosalie asked, shaking his hand.

"Ah, yes. But I figured I could show you around this place a little. I'm still curious about your dæmon, you see. It's been consuming my brain for the past few months since we met." He smiled widely. "Would you allow me to run some tests?"

Rosalie gasped. "Um, I don't really like doctor appointments…" she muttered.

Dr. Steward waved his hand dismissively. "Well, what if we had someone younger do it, hmm? What about Jay here?" He reached out and grabbed Dr. Collins' shoulder. "He's close to your age, isn't he? How old are you now?"

"I just turned fourteen a few days ago."

"Ah! Congratulations! I'm sorry I didn't send you a card or something…" He trailed off, looking excitedly at her. "Well?"

Rosalie knew she couldn't refuse. "Alright," she agreed resignedly.

Dr. Steward looked delighted. "Well, come right over here, then. We'll do some measurements." He swept a pile of papers off of a wooden desk right next to Dr. Richards'. "Ted, go get Lana, will you?"

"Of course, sir." He scurried off, his bald head glinting in the low lights. He returned almost as soon as he disappeared, towing a mousy-haired woman behind him. She clutched a creamy brown lop-eared rabbit to her chest.

"Did…did you call for me, sir?" she stuttered.

Dr. Steward tugged her forward. "Lana, this is Rosalie," he said. "Rosalie, this is Dr. Lana Clark. She's in training just like Jay!" He motioned to Dr. Collins, who was standing back with a worried expression on his face.

Mystified, Rosalie nodded to Dr. Clark, who was looking rather frazzled. "You look a lot like him," she said, giving a nervous smile. "Aaron, that is."

Rosalie laughed awkwardly. "Thanks."

"So now you've met everyone," Dr. Collins leaned in to tell her. "This is our whole team."

"In the whole building?" Rosalie asked, shocked.

He laughed. "No, no. This is just our team for research. There are several teams in this building."

Dr. Steward waved him off. "Enough! Let's get to the tests." He turned to Rosalie. "May I see him, please? Your dæmon?"

Rosalie felt the same strange sense of unease. She tugged at her jacket, breaking Ty's hold on the fabric, and pulled him into her arms.

"He still changes, right?" Dr. Steward asked.

"Yes." Rosalie ran her fingers through Tyxander's short fur, feeling him hyperventilate.

Dr. Clark leaned forward, pulling a clipboard off of the nearest table. "What's his name?" she asked, searching for a pen.

"Tyxander," Rosalie answered quietly. Her heart was hammering at the very thought of these people touching him. _Dad was one of them, _she reminded herself. _I need to be courteous to his friends. _

"With a 'z' or an 'x'?"

"'X.'"

"If you could have him change, please?" Dr. Steward asked, his own dæmon peering closely.

"Ty," she whispered, turning to him. "Please?"

He glared up at her and bared his little ferret teeth. "We need to leave!" he insisted in a whisper. "We need to go home!"

"We will soon," she retorted.

Tyxander sighed, blinking from a ferret to a thick monitor lizard. He looked up at the scientists with baleful eyes and flicked out his forked tongue.

"Amazing!" Dr. Collins gasped. "Fourteen years old and her dæmon changes!"

Dr. Richards walked away into a backroom, followed by the sound of clattering. He didn't reappear.

Dr. Clark flipped her short hair behind her ears and pulled her clipboard to her chest. "Can you let us weigh him?" she demanded.

Tyxander let out a menacing hiss and waddled over to a silver scale in the corner, clambering onto it irritably. He curled his tail close to him and blinked slowly.

Dr. Collins read off a list of numbers—none of which sounded anything like pounds or kilograms. "3.01, 99.2, and 68.08."

"Interesting, interesting," Dr. Steward muttered. "Very interesting." He readjusted his glasses on his thin nose and stepped back. He folded his arms across his chest and muttered something to his dæmon, who turned her beak up at him.

Rosalie felt awkward just standing around while everybody "oohed" and "ahhed" over numbers. She looked around the room, now hearing a steady whooshing sound from the room that Dr. Richards disappeared in. She scooped up Tyxander, who was now a black cat, and walked over to the doorway to peer inside.

A massive machine dominated the entire room, filling the room with the smell of oil and steel. It was almost shaped like one of those space simulators that showed the rider what the astronauts experienced in terms of G forces. There was a seat on one side, and a large, empty metal box on the other side. The machine was spinning now, stretching the distance between the two boxes effortlessly with a series of whirls.

"Isn't it the work of genius?"

The sudden voice startled her, and she clutched Tyxander, who was now pure white with shock, to her chest. "Oh," she gasped. "Dr. Collins."

He smiled. "You can call me Jay, Miss Brown," he responded. "Isn't this machine beautiful? Ted really outdid himself with this version."

"What does it do?" Rosalie asked, sweeping her gaze over Dr. Richards, who was sitting at a control panel on the opposite wall.

"Oh." Jay sounded surprised. "I thought Dr. Steward told you what it did already."

"No?" Rosalie nervously watched him, noticing how deep the color of his eyes was and how his dark hair splayed across his forehead.

He turned to look at her, smiling brightly. "It stretches the bond between human and dæmon, of course. It separates them."

* * *

**So? Good or bad? Any concrit, errors spotted, anything! Just point it out! I swear I will thank you for it. XD**

**R&R!**

**Shadow**


	7. Chapter 7

**I couldn't stand the cliffhanger in the last chapter, so here's the resolution! :D**

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"Ex…excuse me?" Rosalie choked out as Jay's words repeated in an unending loop inside her mind: _it stretches the bond between human and dæmon, of course. It separates them. It stretches the bond between human and dæmon, of course. It separates them._

Jay frowned, his dark blue eyes worried. "Do you need to sit down, Miss Brown? You're looking a little pale."

A little pale. Rosalie nearly laughed out loud despite her terror and revulsion. How could her father have worked here—have conspired with these monsters to create that nightmarish machine? And all the while, Jay just stood there, smiling uncertainly at the play of emotion across her face.

"Miss Brown, please allow me to assist you." Jay reached forward and grabbed at Rosalie's elbow, but she yanked herself away before he could touch her.

"Don't come near me!" she shrieked, not caring if she caused a scene. Tyxander turned into a lion, his long mane whipping around his face and his long fangs gleaming in the harsh light from the fluorescent bulbs. "You…you…"

"If you'd allow me to explain—" Jay started, but Rosalie swept right over him.

"You're stealing people's dæmons away?" she demanded. "Pulling them apart?"

"It's not like that!" Jay was beginning to lose his temper. "If you'd just listen—"

"We don't want to listen. My father couldn't have _possibly _worked here with the rest of you. He wasn't cruel."

Jay finally got a grip on her upper arm, thoroughly silencing her. "Please, Miss Brown, listen." He dropped to his knees so he could look her in the eyes. "This machine separates people whose dæmons are…troublesome."

"Troublesome?" Rosalie demanded.

"Aquatic, most of the time." Jay waved his hand to enunciate his words. "Dolphins, fish, sharks—you get the idea. These people under most circumstances would have to live seaside for the rest of their lives. What would happen if they were injured? What would happen if their boats crashed with no one around to help them? What if they fell unconscious?" He sat back, his eyes glinting.

Rosalie wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling Tyxander, who was now in the form of a bright green viper—one of this most dangerous forms—twist around her neck. His emerald eyes stared unblinkingly at Jay.

If he noticed this, Jay didn't say anything about it. "We use this machine to gently stretch the bond, inches at a time, to build the human and the dæmon both up to longer distances apart."

"So, you…don't separate them?" she asked tentatively.

Jay tilted his head to the side. "Not exactly. They are separate, but they are still one." He looked up, searching out someone. "Dr. Steward!" he called. "Can you demonstrate for us, please?"

Dr. Steward, who was rifling through papers, looked up in surprise. "Ah, I see that our guest has seen the crown jewel of our establishment." He walked over and extended a hand to help Rosalie to her feet. "I, myself, was one of the first to test out the Bisector."

"The…Bisector?" Rosalie's mind whirled. She'd been through enough of school to know that "bisector" meant to cut in two pieces. "But—"

Jay reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay," he murmured. "Dr. Steward and his dæmon are still one. They'll show you." He turned to look up at his boss.

Dr. Steward smiled and reached up for his dæmon. She clutched his finger with small yellow talons, but her eyes were simultaneously bored and annoyed. "Come, Volara," he encouraged. "Don't you want to show off a bit?"

The robin dæmon, Volara, narrowed her eyes at him and gave a quick chirp. She lifted her wings and was in the air in the same motion, already flitting quickly to the other side of the room—almost a football field away. Rosalie quickly lost sight of her small form as the robin flew away.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Dr. Steward leaned down to ask in a hushed tone. "And I feel no pain, before you can ask. She might as well be sitting right her on my shoulder." He raised his hand in the air. "Volara!" he called.

There was an answering call, and Volara came winging back, her beady black eyes filled with smug satisfaction. She perched on his fingers, and he lowered her back onto his shoulder.

"Wow." It was all that Rosalie could say. She absolutely couldn't believe her eyes. Tyxander had turned into a barn owl to better see her as she flew away, and now he turned back to Rosalie.

"Can you believe that?" he whispered, his eyes wide. "That's…"

"Unbelievable," Rosalie finished in a whisper. She turned to face Jay, who was beaming again. "Can you go that far apart, too?"

He laughed quietly. "I haven't used the Bisector," he explained. "I like having her close to me." He patted his chest pocket.

"We would never force someone to use the Bisector if they didn't want to," Dr. Steward said quickly with a look of disgust on his face. "That would be inhumane."

Dr. Clark came up behind them, her dæmon a pile of warm-looking fur in her arms. "It's quite painful, though. It strains at the heart, you know."

Dr. Steward nodded. "Over a series of weeks, the gap between the human and dæmon gets wider and wider, eventually allowing them to go as far away as they like." He motioned to the machine, which was still whirling. "See how it moves on those tracks? It goes out by increments—inches, feet, whatever we need—until the bond is stretched completely."

Dr. Clark pulled out her clipboard. "The machine goes quickly until there's about a gap of three meters. That's usually when the pain starts. After that, the Bisector only goes out a distance of centimeters at best." She flipped her hair behind her ears and fondled her dæmon's floppy ears. "Each round takes about three minutes, and sessions are about an hour long."

Rosalie nodded, not really listening. Tyxander's attention was still on the machine's revolutions, and she was finding it hard to concentrate while he was focused on something else. "So, that's what you meant by client?"

Dr. Steward nodded happily. "I believe we have the footage, if you'd like to watch."

Tyxander tugged at her hair. "Home," he hissed.

She waved him away. "Soon," she promised him. "Yes, I'd like to see it, please." After learning that this machine wasn't some sort of torture device, the science-loving part of her brain had kicked in and she was dying to see how this machine worked.

"You need to make up your mind." Tyxander glared at her with wide, black owl eyes. "You're going back and forth—it's annoying."

Rosalie tickled the white feathers under his beak. "Thanks," she retorted, smiling.

"Right this way, Miss Brown!" Jay waved from Dr. Richards' side.

"You can call me Rosalie, if you'd like," she said, suddenly shy.

He laughed. "That's not very professional, though." He clapped Dr. Richards' shoulder. "Let's show her how this baby works!"

Dr. Richards' yawned widely, scratching his squirrel dæmon's furry ears distractedly. "Alright, alright," he muttered, flipping on a small television that was set into the control panel. "Well, this man had a dolphin dæmon—what kind? Pacific white-sided or something to that effect—anyway, the big girl weighed something like 150 pounds. So, we went out to this lake—he couldn't leave the water, you see—and put his dæmon in one of our big tanks and brought the two of them here." He chuckled. "You should've seen the guy's face. It was like he was seeing all these things for the first time or something."

"He probably hadn't seen the city since he was twelve," Dr. Steward laughed. "Or, you know, fourteen." He nodded to Rosalie good-naturedly.

Rosalie leaned back, more at ease with these people than she had been a mere ten minutes ago. _We misjudged them, _she thought to Tyxander, feeling his reluctant agreement a second later. "So, what then?" she asked eagerly.

Dr. Richards smiled, his mustache wiggling—he was obviously enjoying telling the story. "So, we got his dæmon in a tank, right? Beautiful creature, too. All silver and black—pretty, pretty. We got her tank onto the side with the bin"—he pointed to the larger end on the Bisector—"and got the man into the other side." He wheeled his chair around and flicked the television on.

A black-and-white image filled the screen—the perspective was back in the corner, far enough away to get the whole massive machine in one shot. Dr. Richards pressed play, and the machine began to spin slowly, the revolutions not even quick enough to spill any of the water in the dolphin dæmon's tank. The camera caught the man's wincing face as the Bisector pulled his dæmon away. After about five minutes, the man raised his hand and leapt out of the seat and towards his dæmon, reaching his hand into the water to stroke her smooth skin reassuringly.

"We have to give them breaks every so often," Jay informed her. "Sometimes the strain is too much."

Dr. Richards fast-forwarded through the footage, flicking through scene and making the machine seem like it was spinning extremely fast. "This was his last session," he said with another yawn. "Let's get to the breaking point."

"The breaking point?" Rosalie echoed.

"The moment when separation is possible," Dr. Steward cut in. "When they can go as far away as they want to."

Rosalie watched with unhidden fascination as Dr. Richards stopped the footage. The man staggered out of his seat, clutching at his heart, and walked over to where his dæmon was floating in her tank. The dolphin raised her head above the water and parted her jaws, displaying rows of triangular teeth in a dolphin grin.

Dr. Richards stopped the tape and turned to look at Rosalie with a slight smile on his face. "Well? What do you think?"

"Pretty cool, huh, Miss Brown?" Jay elbowed her in the side. "Now those two can still be together, but they don't have to be _together _together. The man can go into the city and go to the store himself, and his dæmon can go swim in the lake, or in the ocean if they move, unbound."

"It is pretty amazing," she murmured.

"Not something you'd be interested in, then?" Dr. Steward laughed. "You're so much like your father. He didn't want to be separate from his dæmon either."

Even after the man months, Rosalie felt the same stab at her heart from even his mention in passing of her father. "Haha. Yeah, I don't think that Tyxander would be very happen if we did that." She frowned. "Not to mention that it would be very expensive."

Dr. Clark lifted a paper on her clipboard. "Not necessarily," she answered. "It depends on how many revolutions it takes. For some, it's only about twenty or thirty, but we've gone into the hundreds on a few rare cases. Dr. Steward and Volara took forty-three."

"Yes, but forty-three revolutions is a long time when you're away from half of your being." Dr. Steward shook his head. "It was worth it, though. Now, Volara can take off when she wants to and so can I."

"But it's going to be a strange idea to most people for a while." Jay leaned back against the wall, his dark hair falling in his eyes. "Everyone is still shocked and sickened by the sight of people without dæmons, it's going to take a while for them to get used to the idea. Humans and dæmons can exist apart and still be one."

Rosalie felt a little uneasy listening to him. "But, what do they think of your work here now?"

Jay shrugged. "Most don't know, honestly. People who use the Bisector are either reclusive or desperate." He shook Dr. Richards' and Dr. Steward's hands, giving Dr. Clark and Rosalie a smile. "I'm off. I've got to get home to my parents before they get worried."

Dr. Steward pursed his lips. "Make sure you tell them how well we're doing here," he told him. "I want to keep this sector open."

Jay laughed. "Yeah, yeah." He turned to Rosalie. "It was nice to meet you, Miss Brown. I hope to see you again." He gave a final wave and was gone.

"Young Jay's parents are everyone's bosses," Dr. Richards said gruffly. "Geniuses, the both of them. They started and fund this whole building."

"They're nice people," Dr. Clark pointed out. "They kept us working here when most of this building got shut down." She rubbed her dæmon's fur absently.

Dr. Steward turned to Rosalie. "How about this? What if we gave you a job here? You can come and help us out whenever you get a bit of free time."

Rosalie gasped. "R-really? I can learn more about this place?"

The three scientists laughed. "Of course," Dr. Steward said, smiling still. "You're father would have loved it. Imagine it: Aaron's daughter helping out his old team."

Dr. Clark nodded. "And it would give Jay someone closer to his own age to talk to," she pointed out. "That boy is here way too often."

Dr. Richards grunted. "He's a good kid. Smart as a whip, that boy."

Rosalie laughed, glad to be fitting in so well with these people. Even Tyxander had crept out from around her neck and become a silver wolf at her side, watching the people with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a doggy grin.

"So are you on break yet?" Dr. Clark asked, turning to face Rosalie. "It's got to be almost winter break, right?"

"Y-yeah," Rosalie stuttered. "Three more days."

Dr. Steward grinned. "Perfect! Come back here on"—he looked a calendar on the wall—"how about next Tuesday? That gives you a few free days, too."

"What will I be doing?"

"Hmm, I don't know. We could have you help out Abigail."

Tyxander let out a quick snarl.

"Er, or maybe not." Dr. Steward eyed him uneasily. "We can have you take over your father's station. You can do paperwork or something. And, of course, we'll pay you."

"Oh, no." Rosalie shook her head. "I couldn't possibly—"

"Aaron would have loved it," Dr. Richards insisted. "It's no trouble at all."

"Then it's settled." Dr. Steward pushed Rosalie towards the door and out of the Bisector room. "You'll be back next Tuesday, right?"

"Uh, sure." Rosalie fought to keep her footing as the tall man dragged her through the scary lab room.

"We haven't used this room in years!" he told her as they walked swiftly through. "We used to have a whole team—twenty-five members, you know—but the government got us. Only after most of our staff was gone did the Collins family step in." He slid his keycard down the door and lead the way into the main hall.

Abigail, the receptionist, got to her feet when he walked in. "Dr. Steward, I—"

"Later, Abigail, later." Dr. Steward waved her away. He stopped when he got to the door and opened it for her, smiling still.

Rosalie stepped through, mystified by him and the rest of the team. "Thank you so much."

He waved. "See you on Tuesday!" he called after her as he closed the door.

Tyxander padded alongside her. "That," he declared, "was extremely weird."

* * *

**So here's the end of another chapter. Yay! I think I'm going to have to read the series again to get down all the human-dæmon interactions, because I think I'm making them too radically different. But, then again, this is an AU and everything. ^^**

**R&R!**

**Shadow**


	8. Chapter 8

**So, now that my Warriors fic is finished (finally!) I can dedicate a lot more time to this one! I'm not sure how many people actually read this one, but I'm gonna finish it anyway, dangit! :D**

* * *

"Can you believe it, Leah? They asked me if I wanted to _work _there?" Rosalie sat cross-legged on her bed, Tyxander stalking around the ground as a cat, his green eyes sharp. Rosalie flipped the phone to her other ear, leaning back on her pillow.

"That's really cool, Rosalie!" Leah responded eagerly, cheerful as usual. "What are you going to do there?"

"Um, I'm not exactly sure. They just told me I'd be helping out."

"You don't think it's because of your dæmon, do you? Since he still changes?"

"No, I don't think so," Rosalie answered at once, but the question triggered something in the back of her mind. Tyxander looked up curiously as he felt it, too. "I'm not sure why, actually. I think it's because my father worked there or something."

"I dunno," Leah answered, sounding distracted. Sure enough, she obviously held the phone away from her face, her voice becoming much more muted. "I have to go," she said when she came back. "My mom's calling me."

"Okay. Talk to you later! We'll have to hang out during the break!

"Alright! Bye!" The was a sharp clicking sound, and then the phone went dead.

"Thanks for the advice, Leah," she grumbled, snapping her phone shut and closing her eyes.

"You could always call Katie." Tyxander's voice was muffled, as if he was talking into cloth.

Rosalie groaned, pulling her pillow over her face. "I don't want to call her," she complained. "She doesn't understand—_her_ dæmon is already settled."

"Are you blaming this on me, then?" He sounded amused, and there was a hint of a purr in the undercurrent of his voice. "Is this because I haven't settled?"

"You know that isn't it," she snapped into the soft fabric of the pillow. "Where are you, Ty?"

"Here." A soft thump made the bed sink slightly as Tyxander's paws pressed into the mattress. "Look at this," he told her, dropping something onto her belly.

Pulling the pillow away, she saw a thin leather-bound book—a photo album. "I haven't seen this in years," she exclaimed, running her fingers over the smooth surface. "These are from—"

"Yeah, our tenth birthday," he answered, changing into a squirrel to peer over her shoulder as she flipped open the book. "Look! Analise wasn't settled here, either. I was always so sure that she was going to fix as a bird. I guess you never can tell until a dæmon really fixes, huh?"

"No," she murmured, smiling at the sight of her younger self. "You can't tell." A wave of sadness washed over her as she saw the familiar face of her father, bent over a grinning Rosalie, one arm around her shoulders and the other in a happy thumbs-up as Rosalie held up a junior scientist kit.

Tyxander snuffled in her ear, his whiskers tickling her face. "Aaron is at peace now," he said, uncharacteristically gentle. "There's no point to being sad. Think about how happy he'd be that we're working at his old lab."

"I guess," she whispered, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. She brushed her wrist across them irritably, not wanting to cry. She leaned back and looked at the ceiling, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Tyxander became a hound dog, his droopy ears low against his head as he rested his chin on her knee, looking at her with sad, brown eyes. "Don't cry, alright?" he pleaded. "Let's go do something fun. I didn't mean to upset you."

Rosalie reached out and rested a hand beside his cheek, rubbing his ears slowly. "It's fine. We're fine."

"Let's go outside," he suggested, his eyes worried. "Please? Let's go do something fun."

Rosalie laughed, brushing the tears from her face again and sniffling. "Alright, alright," she said, slightly more cheerful. "What do you want to do?"

"Let's go to the park!" He leapt off the bed, shifting into a hawk in the same motion. He landed on the floor with a graceful flutter of wings, turning around to look at her with eager amber eyes. He lifted his wings and let out a short cry.

"What's to do there?" Rosalie grumbled, but got up all the same, grabbing her small backpack that she took with her places. "You know it's cold out there, right? You really going to be a bird?"

Tyxander thought it over, twisting his head around to look at his red-brown feathers, before taking a step forward, flicking into the form of an arctic fox instead. "This will be warmer!" he announced, swishing his new tail.

"Mhm," Rosalie murmured, pulling on her thick coat, flipping her dark hair behind her. She grabbed her backpack and walked out the door, leaving it open enough for Ty's sleek form to squeeze through. "Mom!" she yelled as she went down the stairs. "Mom? Me and Ty are going to the park, okay?"

Tajan poked his head out the door, his ears pricked. He turned his head and murmured something inside the room, and Kara appeared, her fair hair in disarray and a stack of papers in her hand. "What, dear?" she asked absently, brushing at a stray lock of her hair.

"I said me and Ty are going to the park." Rosalie waited patiently as her mother turned to exchange a glance with her dæmon.

"By yourself?" she asked, worry in her voice.

"Mom, I go to the Institute by myself all the time," she reminded her.

"Yes, but that's different," she argued, absentmindedly straightening the papers. "I know the people there...no, I don't like the idea of you going there by yourself."

With a rush of anger, Rosalie clenched her fists. "You let me go there plenty of times with Dad!"

Kara dropped her gaze, but Rosalie could see that she had paled slightly. Tajan showed a more dramatic reaction—flinching like he had been stung by a bee. "Well, that's when he was with you! There have been reports everywhere, Rosalie." She flung the papers onto the kitchen table, pointing after them. "Read that."

Hesitating for a moment, Rosalie was driven forward by Tyxander's intense curiosity. He mentally urged her to look at them, flitting to her shoulder as an owl so he could peer over his shoulder. Rosalie ruffled through the sheets, rather surprised to see that they were email alerts from the local news channel. "'Amelia Wayland declared missing after a week-long search. There has yet to be any suspects announced, but the police chief informs the public that the cops won't rest until she is safely reunited with her family,'" she read aloud, feeling Ty's wonderment as strong as her own. She looked up at her mother, confused. "Do we know her?"

Kara's eyes were sharp as she answered, "No. But look at the location."

Rosalie scanned through the article, feeling another unpleasant jolt of surprise when she saw the location: Denver, Colorado. "Well, Denver is a big city," she hedged, but know she knew why her mother was so distraught.

"She was three years younger than you," her mother told her, her green eyes clouded.

"Mom," Rosalie protested. "Please. I'm fourteen years old. I can take care of myself."

"I don't want you going by yourself," her mother shot back, "and that's final."

Tyxander's claws squeezed her shoulder slightly at the same moment an idea popped into her head. "What if I don't go alone?" she said suddenly. "What if I get Tyler to come with me?"

Kara looked surprised. "Oh...well, that should be alright," she answered slowly. "Just make sure you bring your phone. Call me as soon as you get there, okay?"

"Okay," she called over her shoulder, already heading back up the stairs. "I hate it when she worries over me," she grumbled to Tyxander as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I know," he replied, flitting ahead of her to perch on Tyler's doorknob. "She's just worried, I suppose. We'd be able to take anyone who messed with us anyway."

"You're so confident," she laughed as she moved him from the knob to her wrist, opening the door with her other hand. "Hey, brother," she called inside.

He peeled his eyes away from the computer screen reluctantly, only casting his glance at his sister for a second. "Hey," he responded, turning back to his game.

"Will you come with me to the park?" she asked, sitting on his bed. Analise looked up, surprised, as Tyxander tackled her as a wildcat, knocking her clear off the bed and onto the floor with a dull thump.

_That _got Tyler's attention. He paused the game and turned to look at her irritably. "What now?"

"Will you come to the park with me?" she repeated, grinning at the look on his face. "I want to go see the trees—they're all covered with snow."

Tyler looked like he didn't believe her. "To see the _trees_?" he echoed incredulously. "Just look out your window, Rosalie—there's trees out there with snow on them, and you don't even have to leave the house."

"Come on," she urged him. "Mom won't let me go unless you come with me! Please?" She put on her best good-little-sister face, hoping that he'd change his mind.

He let out a short sigh. "What're you gonna do for me if I go?" he asked finally, running a hand through his blond hair.

"I'll do this week's dishes," she answered promptly, knowing that he was going to ask that question. She had already thought out two alternatives if he still said no.

"Argh," he grumbled, getting out of his computer chair and grabbing his coat. "I'll give you one hour, alright? It's _freezing _out there!"

Rosalie got up quickly, feeling a lot more cheerful. "Thanks, Tyler!"

"Uh-huh," he grumbled, already out the door and down the hall, Analise at his heels. She turned around and gave Rosalie a halfhearted glare.

Rosalie followed, Tyxander as a long-haired cat in her arms. He let out a rumbling purr as he saw that he had irritated the stately fox dæmon.

"Mom, I'm going with her, okay?" Tyler called out, his head to the side with an expression that clearly showed he was annoyed about the turn of events.

"Be careful!" was her response from her room, where she, doubtless, was checking more email stories about the disappearance. "Take your phones!"

Tyler reached into his pocket, coming back with a handful of lint and loose change. "Do you have yours?"

"Yeah," she answered, swinging her backpack around and digging out the flip phone, displaying it to him sarcastically. "Where's yours?"

"Dunno," he answered casually, opening the door and stepping out into the snowy lawn, shivering a little as the biting wind gusted by. "Why are we going outside again?"

"It'll do you good to get off those games," she answered breezily as she passed by him, Tyxander curled around her neck as an ermine. "Don't you love the fresh air?"

"Sure, sure. You're lucky to have a brother as good-hearted as me."

"Oh yeah," she snorted. "Really lucky."

The walk to the park was a short one, but with Tyler's stony silence, it seemed twice as long to Rosalie. She stared off into the distance, curling her fingers into Ty's warm, silky fur as she watched people go by on the streets, their collars pulled up tight to their chins. She smiled as one girl's father zipped up the front of his daughter's jacket, ruffling her hair and making her laugh.

_I miss Dad. _The thought swelled up out of her, nearly making her stagger with the power of it. Her father had done the same thing when she was as young as that girl, she thought, clutching at her chest. He had made sure she was warm and happy, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes and smiling his eye-crinkling grin that always made her laugh.

Tyxander nuzzled her face gently, peeking his black nose out of the collar of her jacket. "Rosalie, look," he whispered, pointing with his muzzle to the side of the road.

"What?" she whispered back, looking in the direction he was looking. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp as she saw what was happening.

A boy, younger than she was by a few years, was struggling in the grip of an older woman, her long, dark hair falling over her face.

"Let me go!" he cried, yanking his arm away.

Tyler looked up at the voice, Analise pressing suddenly close to him, her ears flat against her head. As Rosalie watched, the fox dæmon curled her lips back, exposing her sharp fangs. "What?" Tyler murmured to himself, looking confused. "She must be his mother."

Rosalie watched blankly as the woman dragged the boy harder, bringing out her hand and giving him a sharp backhand across the face. He fell back with a cry of shock, his dæmon fluttering uselessly around his head. At the same moment the woman redoubled her grip on his arm, her lynx dæmon pounced upon the blackbird-shaped younger dæmon, seizing it in his mouth and carrying it after the woman to the back of a white van.

"Tyler!" Rosalie screamed, already running towards the scene, Tyxander a fierce wolf at her side, ready to pry the lynx's jaws apart to pull the poor, helpless dæmon from his cruel grip. He raced ahead of her, held back only by the bond that they shared. Rosalie winced away from the pain, narrowing her eyes but calling out, "Go! Go on, Ty!"

"Rosalie!" Tyler ran past her, his longer legs carrying him easier across the snowy street. "Call the police!" he ordered. "Do you hear me? Get the plate number!"

Rosalie ignored him, darting into the street, nearly getting sideswiped by a passing truck.

The woman stiffened, hearing the loud ruckus the two teens were making, looking up in surprise. Rosalie only caught a glimpse of her startlingly blue eyes before she dropped her gaze again, throwing the now-limp boy into the back of the truck. She ran around to the passenger's side, scooping up her dæmon in a single, fluid movement, the van taking off at that same instant, leaving twin burn marks on the icy road.

Tyler chased fruitlessly after the van for a few feet, slowly coming to a stop, breathing hard. He whirled around, seeing Rosalie standing in the street, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. "Are you okay?" he demanded, walking quickly up to her and taking her shoulders, shaking her hard when she didn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"I'm...fine," she gasped. "Did he just...?"

"Yeah." Tyler's voice was grim. "That...that could have been us," he said blankly, his grip painful on her shoulders. "If we were here just a few minutes earlier..."

"GD-3," she told him, her voice uneven with shock.

He frowned, pulling back a little. "What?"

"GD-3," she repeated, sinking to the ground. "The plate...the tag, it was covered with ice, but it read GD-3-something." Tyxander was a limp rat in her arms, his tail trailing down her arm. "GD-3," she repeated.

"But that's only three numerals," he muttered, sinking to the ground in front of her. "There's at least six..."

"Well, we can report this one, right? We can give them those letters and numbers, right?" She got to her feet, pulling out her phone feverishly, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand.

"Okay, but let me do it, okay? I think you need to sit down. Do you have any water or something? You're so pale."

Rosalie frowned up at him, seeing his fingers shake as he dialed the police station. _You need to sit down as much as I do, _she thought darkly, but didn't say anything—as long as the authorities were informed...that was all that mattered.

"Yes, I'd like to report a kidnapping," Tyler said, his voice shaking. "Right in front of Gale Road. Yes, sir. Yes, sir."

It was infuriating, Rosalie thought, how she had no idea what was going on. Tyxander licked her wrist comfortingly.

"Yes. No, I didn't see her face." Tyler bit his lip. "No, we saw part of it. GD-3. Yes." His gaze flickered down to Rosalie. "Tyler Brown. Yes, my sister, Rosalie."

"What are they saying?" Rosalie whispered, but Tyler waved her off.

"Okay. Thank you, sir." He snapped the phone shut. "They're on their way," he informed her. "He asked for us to remain here so we can give a full testimony."

"Stay here? What if they suspect _us?_"

He scoffed. "Get real, Rosalie. We're kids—why would anyone suspect us? We're the ones that reported it, for Pete's sake!"

Immediately, Rosalie felt foolish for even suggesting the notion. She rested her head on her knees, Tyxander leaning against her as a wolfhound, and waited for the authorities to arrive at the newest kidnapping scene, selfishly relieved that it wasn't her or her brother.

* * *

**Ah, filler. Gotta love it. Although, there was some more plot stuffs in this chapter, so I suppose it's not really filler. Eh, whatever!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter is laaaame! Sorry about that, but I really just want to skip ahead to the good part, so I'm kinda rushing it along here. :P**

* * *

Of course Kara's reaction was predictable.

"Oh, thank goodness you're safe!" she cried, seizing Rosalie around the neck and pulling her into a fierce hug. "When Tyler called, I thought—"

"We're okay, Mom," she gasped, trying to free herself. Luckily, Tyler had just come back from speaking to the police officer, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Tyler, baby," Kara called, waving him over with a tear-stained face.

Tyler looked up once, focusing on his mother, then he turned away, his eyes averted like he didn't know who was speaking.

"Tyler!" Kara cried again, rushing forward to crush him in a hug. "Oh, honey, I was so worried."

"We told you it wasn't us, Mother," he grit out, trying to pull away from his mother's embrace, but held captive by her dæmon—Tajan had both Analise and Tyxander between his paws, staring sternly down at them. Rosalie could see his mouth moving and hear a hint of his growling voice over the wailing sirens.

Tyxander looked frightened. He glanced over at Rosalie helplessly as the tiger dæmon scolded the both of them, his fangs flashing in the reflection of sunlight off the snow. A stream of understanding flowed through Rosalie as Tyxander deepened the bond between them, carrying words with it: "What were you thinking? That could have been _you _in that dæmon's jaws! You let your people go right up here to try to chase after that woman? Shame on you!"

Rosalie pulled away from the harsh voice, finding it remotely amusing how much of the anger and frustration Kara felt was being displayed by her dæmon. She was too relieved at her children being alright that she hadn't even started to scold them for putting themselves in danger yet.

Tyxander finally was released from Tajan's hold, trotting over slowly as a small puppy. Rosalie scooped him up and held him against her, feeling the beat of his heart against her own. They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the police swarm over the area, taking pictures and placing small cones everywhere.

"I wonder if they'll find him," she mused aloud.

"Dunno," Tyxander answered, sitting upright in her lap. "I hope so...but did you see that woman?"

"Yeah, she had some weird eyes. Really bright blue."

"Not that," Tyxander said impatiently. "I meant what she was wearing."

Rosalie felt a spark of surprise. "No? A coat?" She thought back, but the panic from seeing the little boy struggling in the grip of the woman blocked out all other memories.

"Yes, a coat. But you couldn't see what I saw. I was lower to the ground that you, and I saw it." He paused, turning his head around to look at her with wide brown eyes. "A white coat—a lab coat."

Rosalie felt like she should be shocked, but couldn't seem to grasp what he was saying. "Maybe it was her shirt."

"A shirt that goes down to her calves?" Tyxander turned his head away sharply, his soft ears flopping from the gesture. "Don't be stupid."

"Okay, so even if it was a coat," she backtracked quickly, "what about it? There's plenty of places where people wear lab coats. Doctor's offices, vets—"

"The Institute," he filled in for her, cutting smoothly across her words.

Rosalie frowned. "Not necessarily," she protested. "You just don't like it there."

"You're right. I don't. I don't trust that building, or anyone in it." He narrowed his eyes. "Especially that Dr. Steward. Something about him rubs me the wrong way."

"You're just being suspicious," she accused, pushing him off her lap and standing up, stretching her arms above her head. "He was Dad's friend!"

"But that doesn't mean he's trustworthy," he snapped back, flashing into a cobra, red eyes alight with anger. "Do _you _trust him?"

That stopped Rosalie for a second. "He's Dad's friend," she repeated. "Why wouldn't I trust him?"

"Because I felt your panic when you saw the Bisector," he hissed, coiling his long body into a curling pile of glimmering ebony. He lifted his head to look at her, swaying slightly. "I was afraid of it, too. What's the point for that unnatural machine to exist? If a human thinks their dæmon is a pain..." He trailed off, his sadness stinging Rosalie's heart.

"No, no, Ty," she murmured, sitting back down on the ground and pulling him towards her, shifting the coils into her lap. "Don't. If you don't trust them, then we don't have to go back."

"You don't trust them either," he accused. "I know it."

"I _want _to trust them," she hedged, but knew he spoke the truth. "I think we need to investigate it more."

He twisted his jaw, the motion looking very bizarre on his snake face. "Fair enough," he answered. "But I think this"—he flicked his tail tip towards the crime tape behind them—"has something to do with them. Did you see that woman? She looked up when she saw us coming."

"But we were running at her," Rosalie pointed out. "Anyone'd look up at that."

Tyxander looked annoyed, but whatever he was about to say was cut off when Kara came back, her eyes still red-rimmed.

"Let's go home now," she said softly. "No more trips out for you. Not anymore after this."

"Mom," Rosalie started to protest, but bit her tongue and held back her response with narrowed eyes. "What did the policeman say?"

"They're going to do their best to help that little boy out. The partial plate number you gave should help them out." She smiled faintly. "I'm proud of you two for how you acted. You did the right thing in trying to help that boy."

Rosalie nodded silently, seeing the impression of the boy's panicked face in her mind's eye. He had struggled as hard as he could, but still couldn't free himself. "Do they think it's connected to that other case?"

Kara's forehead creased just the smallest bit. "They aren't sure yet," she answered finally, looking down at Rosalie. "They're still investigating it, but they've asked people to start clearing the area so they can take more pictures. We'd better go."

"I gave them our number," Tyler panted, running up to them. He doubled over, putting his hands on his knees. "He said they'd call us if they learned anything."

"Hm," Kara murmured, stroking her daughter's reddish hair, deep in thought.

"Why don't we go to the Institute and tell them?" Rosalie suggested, feeling Tyxander rear his head at her feet and hiss indignantly. "They might know about the woman in the lab coat—they might even know if she works there!"

That got Tyler's attention. He straightened himself up, his brown eyes mocking. "Why are you so obsessed with that place?" he complained. "That's all you ever talk about! Institute this, institute that!"

Rosalie glared at him. "It's really interesting! You should try to pull yourself away from the computer once in a while and check it out!"

Tyler let out an irritated sound, and took a step forward.

"Hey! Calm down, you two," Kara scolded, taking them each by the shoulder and maneuvering them to the car parked on the side of the road. "We can go check really quick, alright? I haven't seen Steven in a long time."

Rosalie felt a jolt of surprise when she spoke of Dr. Steward in such a familiar manner. _Well, Dad was friends with him—it makes sense that Mom would be, too. _

"After what you just said, you still want to go there?" Tyxander hissed, now a green anole on her neck.

"Mom wants to go, actually," she corrected him, wincing as his sharp claws prickled the soft skin of her throat.

"You suggested it!" he whispered furiously, opening his little mouth threateningly.

"Oh, be quiet, Ty." She pulled him off her neck, holding him gently in her cupped hands. "Are you going to behave? You were fine when we were there yesterday!"

"That was different!" he protested. "Don't you understand? That place is creepy with all the medical stuff! I'm your conscience, remember?"

Not amused by his little joke, Rosalie set him on her lap and crossed her arms. "Mom decided."

"Okay back there?" Tyler asked sarcastically, his fingers twisted in Analise's red fur as she sat on his lap.

Rosalie gritted her teeth, her hands clenching into fists. "Fine," she answered stiffly.

Analise's black eyes locked on Tyxander's brightly-colored scales, her gaze uncharacteristically tenative. Rosalie realized that despite her brother's mocking demeanor, that he must really be worried about her. She relaxed her tight back muscles, dropping her hands to rest them on Tyxander's smooth skin.

Tyxander was casting playful looks at Tajan, who was sitting in the seat next to them. Normally, the huge tiger dæmon sat in the passenger seat, but with Tyler in the car, he had to relocate to the seat behind Kara. His amber eyes were passive as he stared out the window, completely ignoring Tyxander's playful advances.

The Institute's gray color blended right in with the cloudy sky, and Rosalie's eyes nearly passed right over it.

"Here we go," Kara murmured to herself, pulling smoothly into a parking space and putting the car into park. "Now, we're only going to stay for a few minutes, you hear me, Rosalie?" Her brown eyes were sharp in the rear-view mirror.

"Why are you saying that to me?" Rosalie muttered, leaning across to open the door for Tajan, taking the utmost care not to touch even a single golden hair on his pelt. The dæmon leapt out of the door, shaking his beautiful fur out when he landed in a small pile of fresh snow. She followed out after him, Tyxander dropping to the ground as a cheetah.

Kara looked unnerved as she led the way to the double glass doors, almost as if she was dreading going in. Tajan leaned his head into her leg comfortingly.

Tyler fell back to walk alongside Rosalie, whispering, "What's with her?" with a flick of his wrist to gesture to Kara.

"I dunno," she whispered back. "Maybe it's sad for her because Dad used to work here."

Tyler didn't look convinced, but gave a small nod anyway.

The doors parted smoothly in front of them, leading into the now-familiar lobby, complete with its black-and-gold pillars and small waiting area. The receptionist looked up from her work, a strange half-scared, half-disgusted look on her face when she saw Rosalie. Unable to hold himself back, Tyxander lifted his tail and held his head high as they walked up, a growl rumbling in his throat, keeping one eye trained on the little green parrot dæmon.

"Can I help you...ma'am?" she asked hesitantly, looking between the little family group, her eyes returning to Rosalie more than once.

"Yes, I'd like to speak to Steven Steward," Kara said smoothly. "Tell him that Aaron's wife is here."

The receptionist's little dæmon started quite suddenly, flittering around her head in a feathery green orbit.

Tyxander watched this with silent amusement, licking his lips like a real cat as he stared at the parrot.

"Right away, Mrs. Brown," she stuttered, reaching up without looking and plucking her dæmon out of the air. She pressed a button on her telephone and said clearly, "Dr. Steward, a visitor is here for you. A Mrs. Brown."

Rosalie could barely hear the doctor's voice, but thought she heard him say, "Great! Send her up!"

The receptionist sat back, releasing her tight grip on her dæmon. "He'll see you in his office," she simpered. "Shall I show you the way?"

"No need. I know where it's at," Kara said smoothly, turning away and walking towards the elevator. By the time Rosalie had stumbled after her, the doors were already open and Kara was inside, tapping her toe nervously.

"Are you okay, Mom?" she asked worriedly, biting her lip.

"I'm fine," Kara responded, but there was a quaver in her voice.

Rosalie looked over at Tyler, but her brother only looked back with a helpless expression, lifting his shoulders in a confused shrug. Rosalie snapped her gaze back to look down at Tyxander, who was watching Tajan out of the corners of his eyes.

The doors slid open with a ding, and the family stepped out. "It's down here," Rosalie said, seeing her mother go the wrong way.

"No," Kara argued. "Steven's office was down there." She pointed down the hallway to a room about halfway down.

"It's down there," Rosalie insisted. "I was just in it a few days ago!" She grabbed her mother's arm, tugging her to the end of the hall down the other side, until she stopped at the polished oak door of the office.

Kara's face hardened immediately, her hands fisting.

"Mom?" Tyler asked in alarm, seeing the anger on her face.

Kara didn't answer, wrenching open the door and stepping inside without knocking. "Steven" she greeted stiffly.

Dr. Steward rose from the chair behind his desk in one smooth movement, hurrying around to offer his hand to Kara, smiling widely. "It's good to see you again, Kara!" he greeted friendlily.

Kara ignored the offered hand, staring coldly into his face. "My husband is dead not three months and you're already taking his office?" she demanded. Tajan snarled at her feet, drawing back his lips to reveal fangs as sharp as knives.

Dr. Steward faltered for a moment, his eyes flickering between Kara and Rosalie, finally turning to Rosalie and saying, "It's nice to see you again, Rosalie. And you must be Tyler?"

Rosalie smiled tightly, opening her mouth to say hello, but Kara cut smoothly across her.

"Well?" she demanded. "You wanted the bigger office that bad?"

Tyxander skittered up her jeans leg as a rat, curling his naked tail around her neck. "What is going on?" he whispered.

"I'm...I'm not sure. Mom," she pleaded to her mother, "are you okay?"

"I knew something was up when you called Rosalie to work here," Kara said, ignoring her daughter's words. "This is still about Aaron, isn't it? You were a crappy friend to him, and now you're trying to make it up?"

Rosalie gasped, clutching Ty to her throat. Her mother never lost her temper like this—something was seriously upsetting her.

Dr. Steward grimaced. "Kara, might I offer you a seat or a drink...?"

"No, I don't want a drink," she snapped. "I want to know why you're still interested in my family. Well?" she hissed. "Tell me!"

Rosalie pressed back against her brother, seeing the same blank look of shock on his face. "Well, this was surprising," he rasped finally, his eyes wide.

* * *

**How crappish of an ending was that? That's the lamest excuse for a cliffhanger I've ever written/seen. I wanted to have the big suspenseful discussion next chapter anyway, so it worked out. ^_^**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	10. Chapter 10

**Grr, this is a short chapter! Although it begins to get interesting here, I think. Although, to tell you the truth, I've lost faith in this fic. :P I'mma finish it up, though, so don't worry. XD**

* * *

Dr. Steward didn't miss a beat. Leaning back smoothly, he swept his hand across his desk, his fingers catching on a small button. "Abigail, please send me Jay."

"Right away, sir." Her voice came from the small speaker on the panel of his desk, sounding scratchy and distant.

"I'm tired of this," Kara growled, looking almost as dangerous as her dæmon. "Tell me what's going on!"

Dr. Steward bit his lip, lifting his fingers to stroke at Volara's feathers. "You know what we do here," he said evasively. "I'm rather shocked that you never informed your children."

"How I raise my children is of no concern to _you_," she spit out.

"Of course." Dr. Steward readjusted his glasses, seeming as unruffled as his dæmon was irritated. "But why, may I ask, did you keep it a secret?"

Rosalie leaned forward, feeling Tyxander's whiskers tickling at her throat. _Why would she keep it a secret? Is it because I would be shocked by it? _She remembered her first reaction when she learned what the Bisector did. _She probably wanted to avoid that. _

Kara ground her teeth together, her brown eyes sharp. Just as she opened her mouth, the door flew open.

Jay stood in the entrance, his dark hair filled with snow and his lab coat over one arm. "You called me, sir?" he panted, leaning over to rest his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

_He must have run all the way here! _Rosalie thought incredulously.

"Ah, Jay!" Dr. Steward sounded relieved. "I was wondering if you could take our young friends here into the lounge and get them something to drink. I have to speak with their mother in private." He motioned to Kara with an awkward wave.

"Er, okay. I can do that." He turned to Rosalie and smiled brightly. "Hi, Miss Brown! If you'll follow me. Um, nice meeting you, ma'am." He nodded to Kara, who didn't respond.

"Mom?" Tyler asked in a quavering voice.

"It's fine. Go ahead, honey." Kara didn't move her gaze from Dr. Steward.

"Bye," Rosalie said awkwardly, wrapping her arms around her mother's stiff body. After a moment, Kara sighed slightly and kissed the top of her head.

Jay held the door open as Tyler and Rosalie walked through, his smile never faltering. He closed the door gently, but not quick enough to block out the shouting. Wincing, he said, "I'm guessing your mother isn't the doctor's biggest fan."

Rosalie laughed slightly. "I don't understand why she hates him so much."

"He took Dad's office," Tyler said unexpectedly, his eyes still wide. "He could've kept his own."

"Oh, you must be Tyler," Jay exclaimed, holding out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Brown."

"No," Tyler said immediately. "Just Tyler." He took Jay's hand slowly, shaking only once before he dropped it. Analise lifted her snout to sniff at the air, no doubt looking for Jay's dæmon. Tyler followed her gaze, a confused look coming across his face.

"Ah, she's in here." Jay gently patted his side pocket on his jacket. "A scorpion."

Tyler recoiled slightly. "A scorpion?"

Jay smiled and led the way down the hall, walking slowly. "Yes. I love scorpions—they're beautiful creatures. She's actually rather large for one, too. Here." He handed Tyler his lab coat, pulling off his jacket and reaching a hand into the pocket, withdrawing it with his dæmon in hand. Carefully putting his lab coat on, he held out his dæmon. "_Pandinus imperator_," he informed them proudly. "An emperor scorpion."

Tyxander, still in rat-form, crawled to Rosalie's shoulder to get a better view of the dæmon. She was a glistening black with small hairs on the pincers. She was nearly as long as his hand, and her tail curled over her back, exposing the dangerous-looking stinger.

"She's lovely, isn't she?" Jay stroked her back gently, a look of tenderness coming over his face. Rosalie noticed that it made him look much younger than he was.

"Yeah." Tyler made it clear that he didn't agree, dropping his hand to ruffle Analise's ears. "So where's this lounge room?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Jay pointed down the hall, carefully depositing his dæmon on his shoulder. "Almost there!"

Tyxander twitched his rat whiskers. "What do you think he's saying to her?"

Knowing immediately what he meant, she shrugged. "I dunno. Something bad, though. I've never seen Mom so angry."

"I thought Tajan was going to rake his claws down him," Ty whispered. "He was so angry he was going to _touch _him." He shivered, climbing inside Rosalie's hood to hide as Jay grabbed the doorknob.

But the door opened before he could do anymore, and a tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out. Rosalie felt herself start a little at his pale gray eyes. "Jay?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"Eeh, hello, sir," Jay gasped, his eyes wide. "I didn't know you were still here!"

The man narrowed his eyes. "Of course, I'm still here," he snapped roughly, his tone clearly questioning Jay's sanity. "I haven't finished my objectives yet." His pale gaze transferred to Tyler and Rosalie behind Jay's shoulder. "Who're they? Trainees?"

Tyler started to open his mouth to reply, but Jay cut him off smoothly.

"Friends of the research department. I wanted to show them around the place."

The man scoffed, tilting his head back. "Sure, sure. Just keep them out of my way." He stepped around the three teenagers, moving out into the hallway and readjusting the buttons on his jacket. Smoothing his hands down his front, the man said, "Nice to meet you after all, I guess. But this is not a playhouse—it's an important research building. You'd do well to keep your noses out of places they don't belong."

"We'll keep that in mind," Tyler sneered, folding his arms over his chest. Analise stepped forward, her fur bristling along her spine. She curled her lip and snarled, baring sharp white teeth.

With a flash of motion and a yelp of pain, Analise was sent tumbling backwards, nose over tail. Tyler recoiled with a sharp gasp, clutching his arm like it was broken.

A bizarre creature stood where Analise had just moments ago, and Rosalie couldn't believe her eyes. It was some kind of reptilian bird, about waist-high, with slit-pupil eyes and sharp talons at the end of its short wings. Its plumage was a startling green and gold with bands of honey-brown, trailing down its short wings and ending on the tip of its long tail, which swished behind it as it stared down Analise. It parted its blunted beak to reveal a row of triangular teeth and a forked tongue, letting out a low, threatening hiss.

The man smirked. "Stand down, little boy, before you hurt yourself."

Tyler's face flushed with humiliation, but he didn't say anything more.

The man lifted his eyebrows and let out a short, thoughtful noise, his eyes nearly as hostile as his dæmon's. "That's what I thought." He walked forward, coming face-to-face with Jay. "Out of my way, boy."

After a moment's hesitation where his dæmon bristled with her tail over her back threateningly, Jay dropped his gaze and stepped aside.

The man chuckled, resting his hand on Jay's shoulder for a moment before pressing the elevator button and stepping inside, his lizard-bird dæmon following slowly, her eyes unblinkingly staring at Rosalie and Tyxander, slewing over to Tyler. She let out a low, coughing cry, before the tip of her feathered tail disappeared inside the elevator.

Rosalie let out a sigh of relief when the terrible dæmon disappeared. "What...what was that?"

"The director," Jay answered, his eyes hard. "He's the one that runs this place. The boss." He scoffed slightly as he stepped inside the lounge room, immediately collapsing into the nearest chair, his dark blue eyes distant.

Tyler was still on the ground, nursing a shallow slice on Analise's foreleg—the same place he had grasped on his own arm. "Just barely bleeding," he murmured, relief in his voice. "You'll need a bandage, Annie."

"Stupid filthy creature," the fox dæmon cursed, spitting angrily. "If I had gotten my teeth in her..." She trailed off, her lips quivering over her bared teeth.

"What kind of bird was that?" Tyler demanded, gathering Analise into his arms and holding her to his chest. "I've never seen anything like that."

"No one alive has," Jay said cryptically, his mind clearly on something else. "No human _ever. _Not even the Neanderthals."

"Is it a dinosaur?" Rosalie asked, moving to sit next to Jay, looking at the creased lines on his forehead.

He sat up, now focusing. "Well...not really. It's an _Archaeopteryx—_the first flight-capable theropod dinosaur."

Rosalie felt her mind whirl. "Theropod?"

"Dinosaurs that stand on two legs," Tyler said from where he was laying Analise on a chair. "I learned it in my biology class."

Jay nodded. "Right. _Archaeopteryx _is considered the first bird, but it was only about the size of a chicken."

"That thing was _not _chicken-sized," Rosalie pointed out, resting her fingers in Tyxander's cat fur.

"No...it's much larger than a natural _Archaeopteryx_ would have been. And fiercer, I would imagine." He twisted his lips. "She's capable of short flights, as the director keeps her close by at all times, even thought they're...separate."

"He's done it, too?"

"Yes. He _built_ it. Tried it out on himself." Jay plucked his dæmon from his shoulder and rested her on his fingers. "I remember it—it was years ago."

"Were you working here when you were that young?" Tyler demanded, dabbing at Analise's cut with some napkins he found. They came away stained with scarlet blood.

Jay sighed, leaning forward and putting his face in his hands. "No," he answered, a laugh in his voice. "But I was still here, you see. The director is my father: Jacob Collins."

Rosalie gasped. That horrible terrifying man...Jay's father? "But...the way he treated you—"

"To make me strong," Jay said immediately, sounding to Rosalie like he had said it many times before—it had the ring of repetition to it. "He doesn't want me to get moved up in rank because of him, and I agree with that." He sat up straighter, smiling slightly to himself. "Do you need some bandages or something?"

"Yes, it's bleeding pretty bad," Tyler answered, gasping as he clutched his own arm, even though no wound marked the smooth skin.

Jay quickly hurried over to help, leaving Rosalie sitting on the couch by herself. "What do you think of that?" she asked Tyxander as he crawled out onto her lap, his round meerkat ears perked.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I think that this place is dangerous, though. That dæmon proved it to me. No human should have a dæmon like that—it's unnatural. We've never seen a dinosaur dæmon before."

"Well, maybe it's just something new," Rosalie suggested.

Tyxander glared at her. "You need to stop trying so hard to be optimistic. If you're scared or worried about something, you shouldn't bottle it up. I don't."

"Well, you're just better than me, I suppose," she retorted, only half-joking.

"Maybe," he said cheekily, flicking her hand with his short, pointed tail. "What if I stuck as a dinosaur? Would you be scared of me?"

Rosalie remembered the orange-amber eyes of the lizard-bird and shivered. "Probably," she admitted, watching Jay and her brother fix Analise. Jay's dæmon was clinging to his back, her tail relaxed now. Rosalie couldn't exactly tell, but she thought that the scorpion's beady black eyes were fixed on the doorway where the director—Jay's _father—_had gone.

_Are they scared of him? _Rosalie wondered. _Was Jay scared of his own father? _She thought it would be extremely lonely to fear one's father. She couldn't imagine being afraid of her own father—not one memory stood out in her mind.

"We should leave this place," Tyxander put in, seeing the look on Rosalie's face. "We aren't welcome here."

Rosalie couldn't help but agree with him, but looking at Jay's face as he stood over Tyler and his dæmon, she also couldn't help but want to know more.

* * *

**So, I think it would be pretty freaking kickin' to have a dinosaur ****dæmon, so here this one was born!** **I can't see how I'd ever introduce this, but her name is "Verendis," which is a contraction of the Dutch words "feather" and "lizard." I also think it's cool that it rhymes with "Erebus," which is a section of the underworld in Greek mythology.**

**Jay's scorpion ****dæmon's name is "Kunai," and those of you who watch anime should know what that is. :P**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	11. Chapter 11

**Ugh! This chapter is _massive! _Be grateful, guys! :P Just kidding~**

**And now, to answer some readers who were awesome enough to review this rather lame-ish fic. ^_^**

**_Cathh-Apple:_ Thanks! I try to put some kind of meaning into each one--a latin root or a certain symbolic animal for the shape to be--but some of them I just plain make up. Tyxander, Analise, Tajan...all randomly constructed. But a few like Volara, Steward's dæmon, I take from real words. The Italian word for fly in this case: _volare. _The coolest one, in my own opinion, is totally the director's dæmon. :D**

**_WildCroconaw:_ First off, you're officially the awesomeness. You've reviewed all my chapters so far--cool points for you! :D I'm glad you like Verendis' name! I'm particularly fond of it, myself. :P Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! Yes, kunai are those awesome little knifey things that they throw all the time. *Random knowledge alert!* Kunai in ancient Japan were simple trowels--little shovels. How demeaning is that? :P**

**Now onto the fic!**

* * *

After the painfully awkward silence that followed Director Collins' forceful presence, Jay got to his feet suddenly, pulling out a thin silver phone from his pocket.

Rosalie looked up from her bottle of water in surprise. She had spent the past fifteen minutes swishing the half-filled bottle absently, wondering what her mother was talking about with Dr. Steward. "What is it? Who's that?"

Jay lifted one finger for silence as he flipped open his phone. "Jay Collins," he greeted, his eyes tight. "Yes, sir." He immediately straightened his back, his eyes unfocusing as he listened intensely. "Right away, sir. I'll bring them down." His gaze flickered to Rosalie and away.

Tyxander lifted his head, his amber jaguar eyes curious. "What's going on?" He flicked his ears.

"Dunno." Rosalie reached over to stoke his silky fur.

"Yes. Okay, see you then." Jay snapped the phone shut and turned to Tyler and Rosalie, a tight smile on his face. "Dr. Steward requests that you meet your mother in the lobby now. She's waiting for you."

"Fine." Tyler pulled himself away from the wall he was leaning against, bending down and scooping up Analise, wincing slightly as he pressed against her wounded foreleg. "Let's get out of here already."

"Wait, but what about Dr. Steward?" Rosalie asked, getting to her feet.

Jay's mouth twisted. "He didn't say," he said finally, his eyes worried. "But it obviously wasn't the best meeting." He dropped his phone back into his pocket with a sigh, his eyes still clouded.

"Are...are you upset about your father?" Rosalie asked tentatively, unsure if she knew him well enough to ask such a personal question. Tyxander nipped at her hand reproachingly.

Jay looked surprised, then smiled softly. "No, I'm used to it by now. My mother is just the same. They expect me to be as great of researchers as they are, and I'm going to be." His voice was firm and confident.

Rosalie smiled, happy to see him back to normal. "Well, that's good, I guess."

"Rosalie!" Tyler called, struggling to open the door with his arms full of dæmon. "Come on! Mom's waiting!"

"Are you coming with us?" Rosalie turned to Jay.

"I can't," he sighed, looking truly upset about that. "My father is expecting me." He winced slightly, almost seeming to not notice it.

"Will you be in trouble for bringing us here?" she asked worriedly.

Jay shook his head. "Dr. Steward will vouch for me. It's just unusual." He grinned. "I've never really had friends before."

Rosalie felt a small bubble of happiness. "We're friends?"

He laughed. "Of course, Miss Brown!"

"Then will you call me Rosalie?" she demanded cheekily. "Friends call each other by their first names."

"Rosalie!" Tyler called again, sounding considerably more impatient.

"Right, right. I guess I'll see you later then, Jay." Tyxander nipped her hand again, this time making it sting. "Ow!" she hissed, glaring down at him.

Jay watched this with an amused gaze. "See you later...Rosalie." He turned away as Rosalie followed her brother out the door, smiling idiotically to herself.

"Can you walk, Analise?" Tyler was asking his dæmon worriedly, his voice tight.

"Yes. Set me down, Tyler. I'm fine." She stepped lightly out of his arms and onto the ground, shaking out her beautiful red fur. "I just want to leave."

"You, too, An?" Tyxander asked loudly, padding alongside her as a silver fox, looking pointedly back at Rosalie. "Don't you get a creepy vibe from this place?"

Analise looked at him sharply, her eyes raking between Tyxander and Rosalie suspiciously. "Yes," she said slowly, nudging him with her unwounded paw. "But suck it up. Don't be such a baby." She trotted ahead to catch up with Tyler, leaving Ty incredulous behind her.

"Ha, ha, Tyxander," Rosalie snickered. "That didn't go as planned, did it?"

"You need to stop talking to _him_." He nodded in the direction of the lounge room.

Rosalie felt a surge of anger. "Why should I?" she demanded. "He's my friend."

"_Please_, Rosalie." He rolled his eyes. "It's embarrassing to see you fawning over him like that. You look like an idiot."

Feeling her cheeks burn, she let out a sharp scoff. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "I barely know him!"

"Fine. Be in denial all you want. See if I care. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Hurt," she echoed scathingly. "I don't care about him that way. I've only known him a few days, for Pete's sake!" She crossed her arms angrily, looking away from him.

"Uh-huh," Tyxander replied loftily, padding ahead of her and into the elevator, hissing crossly at Analise, who only gave him a beady-eyed smirk in return. "Sure."

"Why do you think you're right all the time?" she demanded, nearly colliding with the person in the elevator next to her. "Tyler, would you move over?" The question died on her lips when she realized that Tyler was already on her other side, and a woman in a lab coat was pressing into the corner. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, feeling heat flood her cheeks again.

The woman pulled her long, dark hair in front of her face, only giving a nod in return. Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes, even though she was inside and it was the middle of winter. Rosalie felt a strange feeling of recognition, but couldn't place where she'd possibly seen this woman before.

Tyxander was staring openly at a bulge in the woman's coat—no doubt where her dæmon was. Rosalie wondered distantly why the woman would keep such an obviously large dæmon bundled up like that. _Well, it _is _cold outside, _she reasoned, looking away. _Maybe it's a desert dæmon or something. _

The elevator dinged softly, and Tyler led the way out. Curiously enough, the woman did not follow, even though they had come from the top floor. Rosalie only had a second to wonder about it before being confronted by a red-eyed Kara.

"Hey, guys," she croaked, smiling slightly.

Alarmed, Rosalie hurried up to her mother. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine." She ruffled Rosalie's tangled hair, squeezing Tyler's shoulder with the other. Tajan's amber eyes were as completely unreadable as ever. "I just had to talk about some difficult subjects."

"Like how Dad died?" Tyler interjected suddenly. "Because you never actually told us how it happened."

Kara closed her eyes. "I don't want you to worry about it. Your father is in a better place now." Her fingers gripped at Tyler's shoulder so hard, Rosalie wondered how he didn't wince away.

Tajan growled sharply as he sniffed along Analise's bandaged leg.

Kara gasped. "What happened?!" She raced over to stand over Analise, her fingers hovering over the dæmon's silky red fur as if she was going to touch her.

"Some man," Tyler grumbled. "The director of this building."

"The director, huh?" Kara repeated, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head. "I'm tired of this place. Let's go home, okay?" She turned around without another word and walked towards the exit, leaving Rosalie with no other option but to follow.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Kara grew more and more irritable, lashing out at the slightest mention of the Institute and Dr. Steward.

"Mom, I really want to keep working there," Rosalie insisted, her hands clenched into fists at her side and Tyxander as a bristling wildcat at her heels.

"I said no." Kara's voice was firm. "That's the end of it. School's starting back up anyway—there's not enough time for you to continue going there. Now get to school already. You're going to be late."

"I can still go on the weekends," she insisted, thinking of the past days she had spent at the Institute, arranging desks and filing paperwork for the researchers in Dr. Steward's team. He had even promised her that she could sit in on the next client's session in the Bisector. She had been dying to see what the machine was like in real life, not just on a television screen. "It won't be any trouble."

"Go to school." Kara's expression left no room for argument.

After a moment of glaring, Rosalie dropped her gaze with a sigh, readjusting her grip on her backpack. "Fine. Goodbye."

Kara sighed, reaching out to catch her daughter's wrist. "Be safe," she urged. "There was another girl nearly your age stolen yesterday."

Rosalie gasped. Another? "Did they give a description?"

"They say a dark-haired woman with a cat dæmon was seen in the area." Kara bit her lip, her face pale. "I'm worried about you."

"Not Tyler, too?" Rosalie challenged.

"All these children's dæmons hadn't settled. I think that's what's happening." She opened her mouth to add something, then closed it suddenly. "I love you." She kissed her daughter's forehead, pushing her out the door. "Go on—have a good day at school."

By the time she had walked all the way to school—constantly under the resentful watching eye of her brother—all her anger had dissipated and she was truly happy to be able to see her friends again. _I wonder if Mr. Adams' class has gotten any easier? _She let out a hollow laugh. Not likely.

"Rosalie! Rosalie!" Leah came running up, a pale blue and white scarf wrapped around her throat. She beamed as she skidded to an ungraceful stop, Frithan clinging to her shoulder with sharp chinchilla claws.

"Hey, Leah!" she greeted, hugging her friend tightly—Tyler stalked off quickly, glad to be rid of his bodyguard duties. "How was your break?"

"Fantastic! I went on a vacation to Florida for the winter. Did you know it was sixty degrees there and everybody was complaining how cold it was? It was _great _weather!" She smiled happily. "How was your break? You still need to tell me about the Institute!"

"Shh! Not here." Rosalie looked around nervously, as if she expected to see the blue-eyed woman lurking around the nearest pillar. "I'll tell you on the way."

"Er, okay." Leah's brown eyes were confused, but she fell into step beside Rosalie, listening intently as she told her about the whole kidnapping she had seen that day on the way to the park. Skipping over the part with the Bisector, Rosalie described the meeting with Jay's father, the director.

"Tyxander reckons that the Institute and the kidnappings are connected," Rosalie whispered. "My mother thinks that they're after kids that don't have fixed dæmons like you and me."

Strangely, Leah's cheeks colored and she dropped her gaze. "Actually..."

Rosalie gasped. "Frithan fixed?"

Tyxander, who had been watching Frithan curiously, pulled back, suddenly hesitant.

"Yeah," Leah said, sounding proud. "Isn't he a beautiful form? I was so afraid he was going to be a snake or a bug." She pulled a face.

"Well...when?" Rosalie knew it was bad form to ask such a personal question, but she didn't care.

"In Florida. We were just thinking about what we were going to be like when we grew up and he just...stuck." Leah lifted a hand to stroke his dark gray-silver fur.

"Oh, well...that's great," Rosalie said, making her voice hearty even though she felt cold inside. _Now we're all alone again, _she thought darkly, her eyes flickering down to Ty. He looked steadily back at her with bright orange eyes—taking the form of a small alligator. She could tell that he felt the same.

"Erm, well...did you get ready for the final exam? It's coming up pretty soon!" Leah immediately bounced back to her usual optimistic self, not noticing the sadness radiating from her friend.

"Yeah, I guess. Ty and I tried to study, but—"

"Miss Brown! Rosalie!" Jay rushed through the crowd of students, for once without his white lab coat. His dæmon's hard exoskeleton reflected the beams of florescent light as he made his way towards her. "Thank goodness I found you!"

"What?" Tyxander hissed, scrambling up her jeans to perch on her shoulder as a dark-masked ferret. "What's _he _doing here?"

"Jay?" Rosalie was acutely aware of Leah's open staring. Rosalie had to agree with her—Jay looked quite handsome in his jeans and dark jacket, his hair tousled from the wind. "What are you doing here?"

He leaned over, panting hard. "Dr. Steward...he sent me to get you." He looked hesitantly at Leah, as if he wasn't sure he should be talking about the Institute in front of her.

Rosalie frowned, still baffled by why he was here. "I have school today."

He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "Doesn't matter. It's an emergency." With another look at Leah, he leaned forward. "Please."

Tyxander snarled quietly during the tense silence.

"Why?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think it has something to do with the Bisec—with the _machine._"

"And what could I do to it?" she asked, getting nervous now. Jay's face was tense, and his fingers kept twitching like he was going to just grab her and run.

"Rosalie, do you know this guy?" Leah hissed in her ear, casting suspicious looks at Jay.

"Yeah, he works at the Institute," she responded, realizing that some of the other students had stopped to stare at her, clearly wondering who this new boy was. "How long will it take? I mean, I have important classes..."

"It won't take long," he promised, looking relieved. "I'll take you there now."

"Okay, but only for a few minutes." Rosalie stepped forward, intending to go with him. Tyxander let out a furious snarl, leaping forward to sink his wildcat claws into her jeans.

"Are you _insane?_" Leah had grabbed her arm, her eyes wide. "You can't just leave school to go with him! Do you even _know _him?"

"What? This is Jay! Of course I know him!"

"I can't let you go by yourself," Leah said firmly, glaring openly at Jay. "I'm coming with you."

"Fine, whatever," Jay said stiffly, a drop of sweat dripping down the side of his face despite the bitter cold. "We'll only be a minute."

Rosalie was severely weirded out by his behavior, but nonetheless followed him back to his car, feeling Leah's angry gaze trained on her back. _He's never acted like this before, _she mused. _Something's up—something's happened at the Institute that he's not talking about for some reason._

Tyxander was a raven on her shoulder, fluffing his feathers irritably.

"Will you hold still?" Rosalie snapped. "You're making me nervous!"

"You should be!" Rosalie was surprised by the venom in his voice. "You _never _listen to me! What's the point of being together like this if you don't even listen to your own dæmon! This whole Institute gives me the creeps and you, too—even if you deny it. I don't understand why you're so obsessed with it."

"What about Dad?" Rosalie growled. "Don't you want to know how he died? _Why _he died?"

"He died because of _that place! _Why would we _ever _go there after what happened to him? I don't understand you sometimes, Rosalie, and I'm part of you. What do you think the others think of us?"

"I don't care what anyone thinks!" Rosalie fought to keep her voice down, even as she climbed into the passenger seat of Jay's sleek black car. "You don't either!"

"I know enough to keep my nose out of trouble—something _you apparently_ don't care about in the slightest." He tightening his claws so hard on her shoulder that she winced, reaching up to grab at him. He promptly turned into a mouse and scuttled over her fingers, nipping at her skin.

"Everything okay, Rosalie?" Leah asked, her voice fake-concerned. Her gaze was stony when Rosalie looked back—even cheerful Frithan was glaring at her coldly.

Feeling guilty that she had led her friend into this, Rosalie gave her a slight smile that she did not return.

"We'll go in the back entrance," Jay said suddenly, breaking the silence. "He'll be waiting for us there." His hands tightened on the wheel, the knuckles standing out white against his skin.

"Dr. Steward?" Rosalie asked, seeing his dæmon clicking her pincers in agitation.

"Yeah." He put the car in park, yanking his door open in the same movement. He started to walk away, his shoulders tense.

"What's with him?" Leah asked irritably, motioning towards Jay's back with her thumb.

"I dunno," Rosalie said truthfully. "He's never acted that way before."

Leah's eyes traveled up the side of the dark gray building, unimpressed. "I don't like the feel of this place. What exactly do they study here?"

"Dæmons. They study dæmons."

Frithan recoiled sharply, falling out of Leah's arms and onto the ground. Ty rushed over, sniffing at him worriedly, licking his ears with his rough cat tongue.

"D-dæmons?" Leah's face was blank with shock. "How do you study dæmons?"

After seeing and hearing all about sedology, Rosalie had forgotten how repulsive the idea was. "They don't do anything," she assured her friend. "They just study the idea...and separation and stuff."

"Separation?" Leah's eyes were wide with horror.

"Rosalie!" Dr. Steward came rushing out, his glasses askew on his thin face. "Thank heavens you're here. I sent Jay out as soon as I heard...come in, come in."

Rosalie and Leah were shunted forward by Dr. Steward's worried hands, him looking around the whole time as if he were scared.

"Ah, a friend? How nice! I'm Dr. Steward, a friend of Rosalie's father." His words were quick, as if he were trying to get them out quickly. "Yes, right in here, right in here. This room will do." He held the door open for them, smiling nervously the whole time.

Peering inside, Rosalie saw that there was only a single table—steel, bright and cold-looking—and a pair of chairs.

"What's going on?" Tyxander demanded, coming out of his sulking to watch the movements of the researchers with narrowed rat eyes.

"I dunno," Rosalie told him, feeling a sick pit in her stomach when she saw someone was already sitting at the table, his hands folded on top of the table, and his pale eyes calm. "You!" she gasped.

"Yes, hello, Rosalie Brown," the director said, a sneer on his arrogant face. His lizard-bird dæmon was standing just behind him, her luminous orange-amber eyes glinting in the half-light. "You thought I didn't recognize you, but this fool"—he jutted his jaw towards Dr. Steward—"left his files lying around for curious eyes to read." His eyes narrowed. "Curious, curious things were in those files, such as your dear dæmon."

"What about my dæmon?" Rosalie asked in a quavering voice, curling her hands around him and pressing him against her chest.

"You're fourteen, correct?" he asked, then swept right along to his next words, not bothering to listen to her reply. "Yet, your dæmon still changes. Why is that?"

Rosalie bit her tongue and kept quiet.

"I asked you a question, little girl," he growled, his dæmon hissing a threat behind him.

"Really now, sir," Dr. Steward interjected, bouncing on his heels nervously. "Don't you think that this isn't the right..." He trailed off when the director looked at him.

"You don't understand, do you, Steward? I have more lying in other divisions than that useless one of yours. Just because one of your men invented the Bisector does not mean I can't and won't fire you for imprudence. Now go back to your office like a good little employee and do some paperwork." He paused thoughtfully. "And take my son with you."

Leah gasped slightly, looking from the harsh face of Director Collins to the scared face of his son.

Alerted by the noise, the director's dæmon took a step forward, her mouth already opened, baring her sharp triangular teeth.

Frithan let out a sharp squeak of fear, ducking into Leah's pale blonde hair.

The director smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Your dæmon is settled?"

"None of your business!" Leah spat, taking a step backwards away from the lizard-bird dæmon.

Director Collins chuckled softly. "Cheeky, huh? Get out." He paused when Leah didn't move. "Well? I said get out!"

Jay stepped forward, his face pale. "C-come on, Leah."

"Don't touch me! I'm not leaving without Rosalie!"

"She's fine—perfectly safe," Dr. Steward assured her in his soft voice, pulling her arm, trying to get her to follow him.

Leah cast a helpless and furious look back at Rosalie, who nodded slightly. Tyxander opened his mouth and let out a soft squeak, looking at Frithan intently.

The chinchilla dæmon nodded, then nuzzled Leah's hair, who left without another word.

The door closed shut behind them with a soft thud.

Rosalie's heart was hammering in her chest, and Tyxander turned into a cobra, winding around her shoulders protectively. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Your dæmon changes. That makes you unique and quite the scientific anomaly. You're also Aaron's daughter, who has been working here without my permission." He frowned, dropping a hand onto his dæmon's feathery head absently. "There are plenty of reasons for us to talk, Rosalie."

"Well, I have school..." Rosalie fought the urge to just get up and smack this man across the face. "And I don't want to answer any of your questions!"

"I didn't think so," he said simply, standing up and smoothing his tie. "I want to show you something instead, since your our Aaron's only daughter." His eyes glinted in the light, looking almost as scary as his dæmon's.

"Show me what?" she asked warily, already trying to plan in her head how to get out of this situation.

"The crown jewel of our research, so to say. The reason we get the funding we get." He opened the door and left, not bothering to look behind him to see if she was following. "Your father was the main researcher on the project. Project Gemini."

"Come on! Let's go!" Tyxander was already a cheetah, ready to race out of there. He looked up, his face falling when he saw her face. "You want to see it."

Rosalie closed her eyes and sighed. "Dad's research, Ty! This is what we've been waiting for!"

For once, Tyxander nodded his head, agreeing with her. "After this, you have to _swear _not to come back here ever again."

"Of course," she said readily. "I've already gotten Leah in trouble...I don't want to do this anymore. Dad's research...isn't that important." The words took a weight off her shoulders, and she sighed as a feeling of relief coursed through her.

Tyxander nodded, finally happy to finally have his human agree with him.

The director was standing at a plain, steel door, his dæmon standing at his side. As Rosalie approached, she crouched down and flared her wings, startling Tyxander with her bright green and gold plumage. Director Collins made a sharp noise, almost a hiss, and his dæmon relaxed. "Right in here," he said proudly, gesturing to the door. "After you."

Rosalie watched him carefully, wondering how her father could have ever trusted such a hateful man. Trusting Tyxander to watch her back, she rested her hand on the cold doorknob, turning it and opening the door slowly.

The room inside was blinding white, every surface scrubbed clean with a strong-smelling antiseptic. Blinking and shading her eyes from the harsh light, Rosalie's eyes focused on a single red-and-gold armchair that dominated the whole room. A fair-haired boy around her age sat in the chair, his head lolling to the side and his eyes blank as if he couldn't see.

Rosalie twisted her head around to stare at the director, but he was too busy looking at the boy, a feverish pride lighting his pale eyes. Sickened, Rosalie looked again, unconsciously searching out the boy's dæmon. She gasped as she realized what it was.

A solid black griffin the size of a leopard curled at his feet like some absurdly large dog, her wings folded neatly along her back—fully spread, the wingspan must have been fifteen feet. Six-inch long talons extended from her front paws, as sharp and deadly-looking as knives. As she looked up with bright amber eyes, Rosalie saw a single white mark marred her otherwise pure-black fur.

"Ah," she said, startling Rosalie with her voice—deep and calm, with all the authority of a queen. "Another has come to watch us, is that correct, Director?"

"It's true, Ziz. I thought you didn't mind attention." He closed the door firmly behind himself. "Rosalie, meet Ziz. She's our little Mitchell's dæmon."

Mitchell, the boy in the armchair, seemed barely conscious. Rosalie remembered pictures of coma patients, and the young teen in the chair was no different. His eyes flickered back and forth but stayed unfocused, his fingers curled at his side.

Ziz turned her shockingly yellow eyes on Rosalie again, contemplating her with an unnerving stare. "You are the kin of Aaron, aren't you?"

"H-how'd you know?" Rosalie stuttered. Tyxander pressed inside her jacket, peering frightfully out the neck to watch the griffin dæmon. _I'm talking to a dæmon! A_ dæmon!

Ziz laughed softly. "You have his same features. I can tell from a mile away."

"Where's Solas?" the director demanded, leaning against the wall. "I thought Rosalie here would benefit from seeing him.

"Here," a harsh voice said, coming from behind the armchair. "I can't even take a nap without you people bothering me, huh?"

Rosalie watched, confused, as the voice came closer and then a huge white bird stepped out from behind the chair. It was easily the size of a condor with sharp eyes the color of blood.

"Yeah, go ahead and stare, human. You know what I am." He spread his wings wide, displaying a splotch of black on his pure-white chest. "You can tell. Even if you're too stupid to, _he's _not." He pointed with his wickedly-curved beak to Tyxander's ferret face poking out of her jacket.

"A...a dæmon? Where's...?"

But then the bird, Solas—the word _phoenix _popped into Rosalie's mind—stepped closer to the boy, leaping onto the chair's arm, close enough to touch his bare arm.

But the griffin, Ziz, was still curled against Mitchell's legs...

The nausea roiled tightly in her gut, and she fought the desire to vomit. "Two," she gasped out, horrified by the understanding. "He has _two _dæmons!"

* * *

**Dun dun DUN! I've wanted to write this chapter for sooooo long. This was the first scene that came into my head when I decided I wanted to write this fic. I myself have never seen a fic with this topic, so I figured this was a cool way to go. No offense if someone actually _has _used this plotline, o' course. **

**Total cool points for anyone to guess where I got Ziz and Solas' names from! They are actual names from mythology! (Well, one of them is anyway. :P) **

**Anyhoo...**

**R&R!**

**Shadow**


	12. Chapter 12

**Quicker updates now! Woot! This fic is almost over, I'm afraid, but not a lot of people read it anyway, so I guess that's alright. :P**

**Reviewers! Or, actually, reviewer. As in one. Out of all the hits I got. -hint hint- **

**_ClinicallyInsaneAndDangerous_: Indeed! Ziz is part of the three "Great Beasts" of Jewish Mythology: Behemoth, Leviathan, and Ziz. Now, Ziz is actually a male in the myth, but I needed to have a male and a female dæmon for reasons explained later on in this chapter. ^_^ **

**Ziz was described as a large griffin-like creature with wings so large they blocked out the sun. Now, it's irrational (not to mention impossible) to have a dæmon that large, so I had to tone it down a bit. ;) Ziz was very protective of other birds, and liked to beat the crap out of people who killed the birds in his/her territory.**

**Solas is a Gaelic word that means "light." By the end of the chapter, hopefully you guys will get the gist of what I'm trying to convey here. You're smart though; you'll figure it out. ;)**

**Read on, my viewers!**

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"Two," Rosalie choked out past her shock. "He has _two_ dæmons?" Tyxander let out a shrill yowl, pressing up against her legs, his white cat fur on edge. Rosalie picked him up quickly when Ziz lifted her gaze, pressing him against her heart.

The griffin dæmon's yellow cat eyes were amused. "Have you never seen any form like us?" she asked quietly, her head tilted to one side.

"Unnatural," Tyxander hissed, his claws sunk into the front of Rosalie's jacket. "We need to leave! We need to leave!"

But Rosalie couldn't even move—she was pinned in place by Ziz's golden eyes like a bird caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake.

Solas raised his head imperiously, looking down the length of his pale yellow beak with harsh red eyes. "We shouldn't waste our time with this one," he snorted, ruffling his feathers. "She's obviously not as quick as her father."

Despite her shock, Rosalie felt a prickle of resentment. "I'm plenty smart!" she protested, trying to think of the situation as her talking to another human—not to another person's dæmon and certainly not to _two _dæmons of the same person. "I don't need _you _to tell me otherwise."

"We're baffled by your behavior, Rosalie Brown." Ziz got to her mismatched feet, licking her shoulder—a strange mix of silky fur and thin feathers—with a rough cat tongue. "You don't act like we would expect—"

"—and we've heard enough to guess at what that would be," Solas continued as if he were the one that had spoken in the first place. "Aaron Brown was our friend. Not exactly our creator in the sense of the word—"

"—but close enough," Ziz finished, not looking away from Rosalie. "You can go, Director. We wish to speak alone with Aaron Brown's daughter and her dæmon."

The Director's eyes sparked with irritation. "I make the rules around here—not you," he said bluntly. His fingers twitched at his side.

Solas rolled his eyes, dipping his beak and half-raising his wings. "Seriously? What do you think we're going to tell her that she probably hasn't already figured out, hm? That we're going to use our powers of evil to take over the world? _Please_."

"I don't take cheek from anyone, dæmon," Director Collins snapped. His own dæmon snarled and hissed at his side, flaring her wings at the smaller white phoenix dæmon.

Solas looked unimpressed. "Leave us."

"Please, Director," Ziz added in her soft voice. "Rosalie Brown has been a subject of our fascination ever since Aaron Brown told us of her." Sweeping her gaze over Rosalie, she added, "Do you think she doesn't understand the power of that machine?"

_That machine? The Bisector? _"What—" she started, but was cut off by a broken hissing sound as the _Archaeopteryx _dæmon nudged her human's hand, speaking softly in a sibilant whisper.

The director's face softened immediately as he bent to listen, and in that instant, Rosalie saw some of Jay in his father's face. After a moment, he twisted his mouth and straightened, giving a stiff nod before turning and exiting the room without another word. His dæmon turned and cast a strange, confused look at Rosalie and Tyxander before she shook her head, her feathers whistling through the air, and turned to follow her human, kicking the door shut behind her with a sharply-clawed leg.

There was an uncomfortable silence after they left, leaving Rosalie trapped in the ultra-white room with the strange dæmons. "Um..." She twisted the hem of her jacket nervously. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, we do." Ziz walked forward towards her, her raptor talons clicking on the hard tile floor, sending echoes in the small space. Standing right next to her, Ziz's head came up to Rosalie's chest. "You are quite unusual, Rosalie Brown. Very alike your father in some aspects, but in others—"

"—completely different." Solas spread his wings and took to the air, soaring almost silently to stand on the ground near Ziz, his head coming up to her shoulder. Together they stared up at Rosalie, and despite their differences—color, species, features—Rosalie could see some untraceable similarity between them. Solas tilted his head, looking at her with one red eye, then turning to look with the other. "Where's your dæmon?" he demanded suddenly.

Rosalie started, taking a step backwards. "Uh...here." She patted the front of her jacket, where Tyxander was hiding inside as a lizard. "Do you...want to see him?"

"Of course," Solas exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why wouldn't we want to see him? After all, he—"

"—still changes, right?" Again, the other dæmon finished her companion's words, continuing on as if it were totally natural. "What's his name?"

Rosalie bit her lip. _Why should I tell them anything? I don't know them—they aren't even people! Talking to another person's dæmon isn't right! _

"We know that you have some qualms about us," Ziz said, sitting down to lick her black talon and clean her face like a cat. "But this is what we are. Why should we be ashamed of this?"

"We shouldn't," Solas said firmly, his gaze hard. "Besides, your father didn't mind us."

"He welcomed us," Ziz added.

"He was the only one that looked at us without disgust."

"Something you couldn't help."

"Could you?" they asked together, their heads tilting at the same time.

Now feeling extremely unnerved, Rosalie gasped, feeling herself hyperventilating.

"She's going to faint," Ziz noted.

"We've never seen someone faint before!" Solas sounded excited. "Do you think we should get her a chair?"

"Good idea." Ziz turned around and padded back towards the boy laying limply in the chair, nuzzling him gently with her beak, before sinking her talons into another, smaller armchair that Rosalie had overlooked. She dragged it back, pulling it all the way around Rosalie and positioning it carefully. "Sit down now, Rosalie Brown."

Feeling Tyxander shivering in the inside pocket of her jacket, Rosalie clamped her hand around him, not believing what she was seeing.

Solas scoffed. "Honestly! Some people!" He lunged forward, spreading his wings in a single, startling movement.

Rosalie recoiled with a cry of shock, tripping over her own feet. In that same moment, Ziz pushed the chair from behind, knocking Rosalie's knees out from under her. Rosalie fell into the chair, landing awkwardly. "Stop! Stop!"

Ignoring her, Ziz pushed the chair forward, scraping the hard tile with her lion hind paws, until Rosalie's chair was right next to the boy, Mitchell's chair. "Not bad," she said, ripping her claws out of the armchair with the sound of splitting wood. "What do you think, Solas?"

"Could've done better," he said critically, flitting back onto his human's chair arm. "We'll need to work on that when we don't have unexpected guests." He threw a pointed look at Rosalie.

"I'm...I'm sorry?" Rosalie stuttered, wondering what she was doing here the whole time.

"Oh, ignore him," Ziz said dismissively. "He doesn't think before he speaks." She trotted over and rested her chin on Rosalie's chair, coming so close that Rosalie shrank back uncomfortably. "So...tell us."

"Tell you what?" Rosalie asked, utterly confused.

"About the outside, of course," Solas snapped, narrowing his eyes. He clicked his beak irritably, refolding his wings. "It's not like we're allowed to leave."

"Aaron let us leave occasionally," Ziz put in, her eyes thoughtful. "Under his supervision, of course."

"They used to clip our wings," Solas informed Rosalie, extending his wing to show her the newly grown flight feathers. "I can only just fly again."

"They _touched _you?" Tyxander came out for the first time, his eyes wide brown rabbit eyes. "You let them?"

Ziz shrugged. "It's not that bad," she said softly.

Rosalie tightened her fingers in Tyxander's fur. "Not that bad?" she echoed. "That's just...taboo! It's a terrible breach of privacy!"

Solas laughed harshly. "Not like we have any. Our body is constantly under watch because of his condition." He nodded towards Mitchell's prone form. "We're always measured and prodded and poked at." He shook his head.

"It's just how we are," Ziz said simply.

"I wish it wasn't—"

"—but that's how it is anyway," Ziz said dryly.

"How do you _do _that?" Rosalie asked, her head whirling.

They looked surprised. "Do what?" they asked in unison.

"_That! _Finish each other's sentences and talk at the same time..." She trailed off, feeling stupid.

The two dæmons exchanged amused glances. "We're the same," they chorused. "Why wouldn't we know what the other is thinking? Isn't it the same with you and _your _dæmon?" They tilted their heads—again, hypnotically, at the same time. "We can do it all the time if you want."

"Yes, but Ty's my dæmon, not..."

"Not two?" Ziz asked curiously. "Is it our fault that we're two?"

Suddenly, Mitchell groaned, his fingers twitching slightly. His back arched in the armchair, his eyes wide and staring at nothing.

At the same instant, Solas collapsed, falling off the arm of the chair and hitting the ground with a solid thud, his eyes screwed up in pain. He folded his wings awkwardly at his side as he fought to right himself.

Rosalie shot to her feet, panicking. "What's happening?"

Ziz sighed deeply, reaching out with her hand-like talons and gently lifting Solas, cradling him against her chest. With the other talon, she reached out and stroked the damp hair off of Mitchell's face, trailing her dagger-sharp claws down his face delicately. "Calm down, Rosalie," she said softly. "It's just an attack."

Solas was crumpled against the other dæmon's chest still, his eyes closed. Rosalie could see his chest rising and falling quickly.

Tyxander flowed out of the top of Rosalie's jacket, pressing his ferret paws again Solas's limp form, his eyes worried. "What's wrong with him?"

"This happens every so often," Ziz explained calmly, even though Rosalie could see that her golden eyes were glazed over with pain. "Because our being is split into three parts instead of the natural two, we have sudden seizures as our spirit tries to figure out what's happened."

"Does...does it hurt him?" Rosalie asked, pointing towards Mitchell. She walked slowly over to him and, hesitating slightly, pressed her palm to his forehead. "He's feverish."

"He's always feverish," the griffin dæmon informed her. "This is his constant state. It appears like we have a lot of explaining to do."

"Is that why the director brought me here?" Rosalie asked, pulling her hand away from the comatose boy.

"No," Solas rasped, lifting his head weakly from Ziz's arms. He nodded stiffly to her and she gently lowered him to the ground, taking care to set him gently on his feet. "He thinks seeing us will frighten you enough to scare you away from here."

Ziz lowered her head to gently nuzzle Solas's feathers. "But it didn't work, did it? You're more curious with us than revolted."

"Well, if my father was with you..."

"Not with us, necessarily," Solas said, wincing as he readjusted himself. "He was on the team that created us so long ago..."

"We've only been alive for sixteen years, but your father was on our team." Ziz folded her talons underneath her and settled her head on the edge of Rosalie's chair again, her golden eyes thoughtful. "He and Steven were our main caretakers and researchers. They were a great team."

"Dr. Steward?" Tyxander gasped.

"Yes." Ziz held out her claws protectively as Solas fought to get his feet under him, panting hard. "They got us when we were just born. We were only two, then."

"You were one dæmon? You were born that way?"

Ziz sighed, laying back down. "It's...complicated. You see, every human has three parts." She held up her paw, counting down her reasons on her long claws. "A spirit, a mind, and a dæmon. So, we were no different when we were born—Mitchell was a normal baby, and we were a normal dæmon."

"Totally normal," Solas put in, sitting much more comfortably now.

"But I don't understand," Rosalie protested. "How can you be the way you are now if you were born just like any other..." Then she remembered what Ziz had told the director earlier: _Do you think she doesn't understand the power of that machine? _"The...the Bisector?"

"Right," Solas said briskly. "Ted—Dr. Richards—was the main mechanist on the project. Project Gemini." He spat the words out with surprising venom.

"Solas," Ziz chided gently.

"I know," he relented. "Gemini means 'twins,' you see. They thought it was clever. So they adopted us, so to say."

"Mitchell's mother sold us for money," Ziz sighed, her voice dismissive as if she had explained this many times before. "She was a single mother—she needed the money."

"She didn't want us," Solas hissed. "A terrible woman with a dead-brained dæmon. He must have been a cockroach or something else foul." He looked away bitterly.

"Sold you here? And they _bought _you?"

"Science knows no limits, Rosalie. Director Collins needed something to boost his funding...we were the first to be put in the Bisector." Ziz dropped her gaze.

"But something went wrong," Solas continued, his eyes unfocused. "They hadn't tried it on anyone else...they didn't know what to expect. We went into the machine as one—"

"—and came out as three."

"More like two and a half," Solas grumbled, tilting his head to gesture to Mitchell. "They pulled us apart too fast—our link was surprisingly strong, and they underestimated us. The dæmon we were split into half, but there wasn't enough to make two full dæmons—"

"—so to relieve the pain of our separation, somehow Mitchell's spirit ripped itself in half to try and make up the difference. Solas and I both share a part of this spirit."

"Mitchell's body rejects us, though. A human can only have one dæmon and still be whole—anymore than that and—"

"—you get us," Ziz finished, bitterness finally reaching her voice.

"Mitchell cares nothing for us," Solas hissed. "Our attacks happen because his body wants a whole spirit. It pulls at the piece that we have within us." His eyes had been half-closed in thought, but now he turned to Rosalie. "What do you know about psychology, Rosalie?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I know about Freud and Pavlov...he was the one with the dogs, right?" She felt her cheeks flush as Solas gave her a pitying look.

"Solas means," Ziz cut across smoothly, "what do you know about duality?"

"Er..." Rosalie wracked her brains, but was too nervous to think of anything. _I'm so stupid! _she railed internally.

Tyxander, who had been sitting on the front of her chair, looked up in surprise, his whiskers quivering. "Well, 'dual' means 'two,'" he said slowly.

"Right." Solas hopped up to his feet, shaking out his ruffled feathers. "Black and white, day and night—"

"—light and shadow, hard and soft, yin—"

"—and yang," Solas finished. "Duality is in everything—including humans. There's human and dæmon: two different sides of the same coin. Dæmons possess qualities that their humans don't."

"Isn't that right, Rosalie?" Ziz asked, leaning in closer.

Rosalie thought of Tyxander. He was so confident, strong, fearless...and she was everything the opposite.

_Not true, _she felt Tyxander protest, but she just smiled and shook her head.

"Exactly," the griffin dæmon said, seeing the look on Rosalie's face. "When Mitchell's spirit came to try and help us out, he accidentally transferred the two parts of his nature into our new forms." She glanced over at Solas teasingly. "Straightforward, blunt, sharp..."

Glaring at her, Solas retorted, "And quiet, passive, and dull."

Rosalie couldn't hold back a laugh. _They bicker so much, but they _are _the same! _It was such a strange and bizarre conundrum: two creatures who shared the same being, but they were just so _different. It's like one of them is the human and the other is the dæmon_, she mused. _They aren't really that different. _

Ziz's golden eyes were amused, but suddenly her hackles raised and she looked towards the door. "Someone's coming!" she hissed.

Solas flew from the ground to the back of Mitchell's chair, his feathers fluffed up and his beak open and ready to bite. "Who?"

"Don't know." Ziz walked towards the door stealthily, keeping her weight low over her paws. She pressed one pointed ear against the crack, closing her eyes to help her concentrate.

Blank shock came over her face.

"Impossible," she whispered, backing up quickly. "It's...it's not true! It can't be true!" She whipped around, her eyes wild. "Rosalie, you need to get out of here. Now."

"W-what?" Rosalie felt panic clutch at her heart. "Who is it? Who's there?"

But the door was already opening, slowly, as if the person was afraid of what was inside.

"Rosalie, get down!" Tyxander hissed, pushing at her with wide badger paws.

Ziz snarled furiously, leaping towards the door and slashing with her wickedly-curved talons. The person jumped back, startled, but Ziz's claws still hit their mark, raking inch-deep grooves down the metal door. "Rosalie! Go!" she roared.

Solas was screeching, flapping his wings. "No! No!"

The door was opening again, but this time, Ziz didn't attack. Instead, she whirled around, gracefully spreading her huge wings and taking off in a single, smooth movement, flying straight at Rosalie. Reaching out with her talons, Ziz collided with Rosalie, carrying her off her feet and into the air, where they hovered.

Rosalie protested against the contact with every fiber of her being. _No! Wrong, wrong, wrong! Let me go! _She wanted to scream the words, but what she saw at the door made the words die on her throat. "No..." she mouthed, her lungs seeming to lack the air needed to articulate the words.

A man stood in the door, his shirt torn at the bottom and his red hair was messy with lack of care. Crooked glasses rested on his nose over deep brown eyes, eyes that were filled shock. On his shoulder sat a dæmon in the shape of a mockingbird.

It was Aaron Brown.

* * *

**Ah, this fic suddenly picked up. A lot. I'm not sure that I like it. O.o**

**Rosalie is coming across as rather stupid. I know it seems that way (and is that way) but let's pretend that it's not, 'kay? I can't change it much now, since I've already written our her character, but I'll try my darndest. XD**

**And, to add to the randomness of the deceased coming back to life, I shall leave you with this _Blues Brothers_ quote: **

_**Elwood**: It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. _

_**Jake**: Hit it._

**Aww, I love that movie. ^_^**

**R&R!**

**Shadow**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ah, so I tried to upload this like ten times yesterday and it didn't work--hence me uploading it today. :D**

**_Rosalie-Hale-Cullen- _Nice name! Well, at least the first word. Not much of a fan of the _Twilight_ series myself, I'm afraid. :P I'm glad that you enjoyed this fic! It's coming to a very abrupt end soon, so I hope you'll stay with me~ ;)**

**And onto the chapter! **

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Rosalie felt like her heart would stop with astonishment. Here, after being supposedly dead for nearly four months—months filled with anger and sorrow and loss—here her father was again. "D-Dad?"

Aaron looked just as startled as she felt. "How...you're here? How is this possible?"

Ziz slowly wilted, her wings folding in on her body as she set Rosalie back on her feet. "It can't be," she whispered raggedly.

Tyxander was an owl on her shoulder, his claws so tightly clenched that Rosalie's shoulder was starting to bleed, but she barely noticed. "Dad?" she asked again, taking a step forward, but Ziz's talons held her back.

"Wait," she hissed.

Rosalie looked up numbly. "What?"

Solas was there in an instant, his eyes as hard as Ziz's. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Tell us!"

"Are you two insane?" Aaron looked taken aback.

"Let go of me!" Rosalie twisted away from Ziz's hard talons, but the griffin dæmon held fast. "That's my father!"

"Yeah, well, he needs to prove it," Solas screeched, leaving his post on the back of the chair to flit onto the ground in front of Rosalie, his wings spread wide and protectively. "So?"

Tyxander's owl eyes were wide and shocked. "Starra?" he rasped, looking at the hard-eyed mockingbird perched on Aaron's shoulder.

Aaron looked furious. "Are you serious? After all I did for you two, you're going to do this to me? That's my daughter!"

"You taught us to trust no one, need we remind you," Solas hissed, lowering his head and opening his beak wide. "Have you forgotten so easily?"

Ziz pulled Rosalie back farther, pressing her into the soft feathers of her chest. "Rosalie's our friend now. You taught us to protect others."

Aaron ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, then, if that's what you really want, then fine. Ziz, you have a fondness for apples—the big red kind. I used to bring you them when I came to visit you." He turned to the white phoenix dæmon, finger extended, his eyes narrowed. "Solas, when you were younger, you used to be terrified of molting. You thought your feathers would never grow back because Ziz told you so. And you,"—he turned to Rosalie—"are my daughter, Rosalie Jacqueline Brown. You have a brother named Tyler David Brown. You _were _thirteen, but now you're fourteen." He paused, running his hand through his messy hair again. "Sorry I didn't get you a birthday present, Rosie."

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Rosalie ripped her arms free of Ziz's talons—now limp with disbelief—and threw herself into her father's waiting arms. "Dad," she cried, pressing her face into his shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of his hair. "I've missed you so much."

"I know, Rosie. I'm so, so sorry." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. "I had to. I really had to."

Rosalie was openly crying now, feeling her broken heart pulling itself back together. Tyxander was a mockingbird, too, now, his head lowered as Starra roughly moved her beak through his gray-brown feathers.

"I don't mean to interrupt this _touching_ scene," Solas said snidely. "But what the heck are you doing here?"

"We heard you were dead," Ziz said gently, coming forward to stand beside Rosalie. "Steven told us there was an accident."

"Ah, good old Steven." Aaron pulled Rosalie away and stood up, Starra flying to his shoulder quickly. "I knew he would back me up."

"What?" Rosalie remembered the scene in the kitchen—it had been Dr. Steward who had delivered the news, Dr. Steward who invited her to join the group at the Institute...his dæmon who had set off her powerful curiosity for this place. _She was unfeeling back then, but not because Dr. Steward __wasn't really sad...it was because he knew that Dad wasn't really dead! _"But why did you do this?"

Aaron lifted his hand to Starra's feather, gently stroking them. "I had to get out of the radar of Collins," he explained. "I'm here on a jailbreak." He grinned tightly, looking extremely stressed out.

Ziz gasped. "You're here for _us? _You pretended you were dead to come save us?"

"Yes."

Solas moved forward and whapped him across the face with a wing at the same time Ziz whirled around and smacked the back of his knees with her thick, tufted tail.

"Idiot!" Solas hissed. "You endangered your whole family—"

"—and made them think you were dead for months and months—"

"—all to try some hare-brained scheme to bust us out of here?"

"Are you insane!?" they finished together, both of them with the same expression of disgust on their faces.

Aaron looked as taken aback as Rosalie felt. "But...I'm the one who created you. I couldn't stand to see you suffer in here like this."

"What could we possibly do on the outside? Are you a moron?" Solas demanded.

"We can't exactly do much on the outside," Ziz added in a softer voice, her shoulder brushing Rosalie as she sat back down. Rosalie shrank from the contact, but Ziz seemed to think nothing of it.

Aaron looked mad again. "Are you seriously saying this? What's gotten into you two?"

"We've pretty much accepted the fact we can't live normally," Solas said dejectedly. "I mean, dæmons don't just go around by themselves—"

"—and with the attacks we keep having, we can't just go have a normal life," Ziz continued. "Mitchell is too weak for us to live for very long anyway. We're going to die soon—"

"—and sooner on the outside," Solas murmured, sounding sad for the first time Rosalie had seen.

"I'll protect you," Rosalie spoke up, her voice firm. "If Dad will, I will, too."

Aaron looked proudly down at her, ruffling her hair with one hand. "It's my fault you're like this," he told the dæmons softly. "You can come and live with my family. We'll welcome you into our house."

"A house?" Ziz flicked her tail behind her excitedly.

"We've never seen a house before," Solas screeched, flapping his wings and hopping around.

"But what about...?" Ziz left the question hanging.

"It's all good. I've disabled the cameras in this wing." Aaron looked at the watch riding loosely on his wrist. "They'll be out for a good hour more. It's taken me forever to set this up. Although, Steven did help me out a lot," he admitted.

"What?" Rosalie couldn't believe it. How could she have been working so close to Dr. Steward without him ever telling her the truth? "Couldn't you have trusted me, Dad?" she asked, her voice shaking with anger.

"I'm sorry, Rosie. Starra and I decided early on that we needed to keep you out of danger as much as we could." He shook his head. "When I get my hands of Steven, I'm going to wring his neck. Him bringing you here, right into the heart of all of this! Impossible!"

"I was curious," she said impetuously, folding her arms across her chest. "I came here myself!"

Aaron looked astonished. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"This isn't the best time for this, don't you think?" Ziz looked worried. "We might want to get out of here before anyone notices the cameras are out."

"Good idea," Aaron said, hastily looking around the room. "I'll get Mitchell into the van. Starra, you go check for us."

Starra nodded and took off out the door.

"She's separate?" Tyxander gasped.

"We had to," Aaron admitted, picking up Mitchell's limp form easily. "We needed to be able to sneak in and out of here, and Starra's much less conspicuous. You can barely tell she's a dæmon if she keeps moving."

"Rosalie, put this collar on me, will you?" Ziz tossed a thick leather band into Rosalie's lap—the surface scarred by deep gouges. "Solas can't walk very fast, and the ceilings are too low to fly in."

Rosalie picked up the heavy collar, delicately putting it around Ziz's neck.

"We don't have time for good manners, Rosalie," Ziz snapped. "I don't care if you touch me, and neither does Mitchell. He can't feel anything, anyway."

"Okay. Sorry," Rosalie gulped, letting her fingers brush across Ziz's silky pelt as she clipped the collar on. A band under her chest kept the collar from shifting when Solas was gripping it.

Solas hopped onto Ziz's back, sinking his talons into the collar and flapping his wings rapidly as he fought to stabilize himself. "Let's go!" he said fiercely.

Rosalie ran ahead to hold the door still as Aaron walked through with his limp burden with Ziz following. "Are you sure he won't notice?" She closed the door on the blindingly white room, feeling a quick jolt of relief as the unnatural brightness faded.

"Of course," Aaron whispered. "The cameras are down, I told you. Besides, Collins is too arrogant and proud of his electronics, the thought of the cameras going out won't even cross his mind." He took a turn down another blank hallway, the walls seeming dingy compared to the white room. Mitchell's head lolled loosely on Aaron's shoulder, his eyes closed peacefully.

They reached a door at the end of the hall, and Aaron shouldered it open, allowing the dim hall to be lit with the pale sun filtering down through the clouds. Rosalie blinked in the sudden light, but her reaction was nothing compared to Ziz and Solas's.

The two dæmons stood stock-still with their beaks hanging open, staring with wide eyes around them. "It's been...so long," Solas whispered.

"We haven't seen the sun in years," Ziz rasped, just as quiet.

"We need to go," Aaron called, trying to keep his voice down. "The van's right back here..." His voice faded as he rounded a corner, headed towards the side of the building.

"Look!" Solas cried, hopping down from Ziz's back. He leapt over to a pile of snow that had gathered beneath a scraggly line of bushes. "Look, Ziz! I think it's snow!"

Ziz trotted over, her claws clicking on the gray concrete softly, until she stood beside the other dæmon. She lowered her black beak, thin whiskers that sprouted from around the base quivering, until she touched the snow. She drew back, one talons wiping at her muzzle. "It's cold!"

"Snow is frozen water," Solas chirped. "Right, Rosalie?"

"Right. Uh, didn't you say you used to go outside?" Rosalie pressed Tyxander—cat-formed again—against her chest and shivered in the cold air.

"Not when snow was around." Solas was dipping the tip of one wing into the cold snow, a delighted look in his red eyes. "This is so cool!"

Ziz laughed, scraping at the snow and swishing her tail behind her like a dog. "Wow. Snow."

"Ziz! Solas! Come on!" Aaron's voice was panicky.

Rosalie raced around the side of the building, seeing her father's worried face peering from around the side of a van. "Sorry, Dad," she panted, walking up to him with Ziz and Solas at her side. "We were just..." She trailed off, feeling blank shock course through her veins.

"Rosalie!" Aaron rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You're pale—what's wrong?"

"That...that van!"

"Yes?" Aaron sounded confused. "This is one of the Institutes vans. I'll be able to get it back before they notice—"

"You don't understand," she choked out. "I've seen this car before! GD-3!" She clutched her father's arm and stared blankly into his face. "This is the car that's been abducting kids!"

Aaron's face went blank and his grip tightened on her arm. "Who was driving?"

"I...I dunno. But a dark-haired woman with blue eyes was the one who grabbed them. The kids, that is. I saw her myself."

Ziz and Solas were sitting extremely still behind Aaron as he bit his lip. "What was her dæmon?" he demanded.

"A lynx. It was about knee-high and silvery..." She trailed off as Aaron recoiled, dropping her arm as if it had burned him.

"Myrilla," he breathed, closing his eyes. He let out a deep sigh. "I'm afraid my fears have been confirmed. I didn't think that they would _ever _try it again, especially after what happened to..." He trailed off, his eyes alighting on Mitchell's limp body, already buckled into the van.

"What?" she demanded. "Who's Myrilla?"

Aaron hesitated, then turned to face his daughter. "They're going to try and separate a person into two dæmons again. I looked over the files, but everything was extremely coded. The Rome Project."

"Ah," Ziz murmured. "Romulus and Remus."

"Twins," Solas put in.

"Yes. But why would they do this..." He bit his thumbnail. "We have to go back now and rescue them. Children whose dæmons still change and those that have just stuck."

"Oh, God," Rosalie gasped, gripping the side of the van to keep from falling over. "Leah!" How could she have forgotten about her?

Tyxander's fur was trembling in Rosalie's arm. "They're still inside!" he wailed.

"We're going in to get them," Aaron said firmly. "Ziz, Solas, you need to get away from here. Can you carry Mitchell, Ziz?"

"I might be able to," she whispered. "But—"

"—we want to help you." Solas fluffed up his feathers and narrowed his eyes. "Why shouldn't we? This whole situation is because of us!"

"No!" Aaron said firmly. "You're to take Mitchell out of here!"

Solas scoffed. "We can leave him here!"

"Solas," Ziz chided softly. "We can't do that."

Solas glared at her, then suddenly his anger vanished. "You're right," he agreed, dipping his head and breaking eye contact. "We'll get him to safety."

"Good." Starra gripped Aaron's shoulder with her little claws and whispered something in his ear. "We need to go now and hurry. We only have an hour before the cameras come back on." He grabbed Rosalie's hand to pull her towards the van. "Get inside, Rosie. You'll be safe out here."

"No," she protested fiercely. "I know the layout of this place as well as you! I can take us there!"

"It's too dangerous," Aaron disagreed, shaking his head. "I can't let you do that."

"I already thought you died once!" She exploded to her feet. "I can't bear it if you actually died while I sat out here doing nothing!" Seeing the hurt look on his face, she added, "Besides, I'll just sneak in later."

Starra hissed indignantly. "Still not doing what you're told, are you?"

"Of course not!" Tyxander shot back, curling his lemur tail around Rosalie's neck.

"Alright," Aaron said at last. "But if I say to go back—"

"Then I'll go back," Rosalie finished for him, wondering if this was what it was like for Solas and Ziz all the time. "But, Dad...who is Myrilla?"

Aaron froze, his shoulders tight. "Myrilla is the wife of the director. Myrilla Collins—Jay's mother."

* * *

**And you thought I forgot about dear Leah and Frithan. Tsk tsk. Never doubt my capacity for evil! :D**

**As a little sidebar, Frithan's name (or the original name I based it off of) comes from a certain book very dear to my heart. Any guesses? ^_^**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	14. Chapter 14

**Wow, this story has been neglected. Well, it's almost over anyway, so I'm sorry to those of you that actually read this story. :P**

**WildCroconaw - I guess it is like that, huh? I never thought of that... Yes, I definitely see some possibilities now. :D**

**Onto the story!**

* * *

Rosalie simply closed her eyes, a wry smile on her face as she replayed the words her father had just told her--that Jay's parents were the twisted minds behind Ziz and Solas's creation. _He doesn't know, _she told herself, willing it to be true. _It can't be possible that Jay knows. He's not like them--not evil like them._

"He might be," Tyxander whispered dryly in her ear, his wide orange lemur eyes fixed on Aaron's back. "It's not like we know him. He could be a part of this, too."

"Not Jay." Rosalie made sure her voice was firm.

Tyxander flipped his head sideways, his expression displeased. "You can't trust appearances. Aaron and Starra coming back should have proved that to you." His voice was harsh.

She clenched her fists. "You didn't know either," she hissed.

Surprisingly, he dipped his blunt muzzle into her hair. "I know."

"Rosalie." Aaron froze with his hand on the doorknob, his shoulders tense. "You remember what I told you? If I tell you to run away--"

"Then I'll run away," she finished softly, highly aware that her knees were practically knocking together. _Leah's in there because of my stupidity, _she reminded herself. "But I won't like it. I…I already lost you once." She couldn't go on, feeling the burning sensation of unshed tears in the back of her throat.

Aaron's face softened and he reached out with one hand, stroking his daughter's face. "I won't leave you again, Rosie. I promise."

She nodded stiffly, flicking her wrist across her eyes irritably. As if she needed to start crying right now.

Aaron looked up at the sky. The silhouette of a bird in flight was just visible against the bright sun. "Solas will watch for us. We don't have much time." Turning to her, he added, "We'll need to get in and out. They'll be keeping her somewhere near the Bisector--probably in our old offices." Despite the fact he hadn't worked there in months, he still referred to it as his office, Rosalie noted distantly.

"Okay," she said firmly. Tyxander dropped to the ground as a jaguar, one of his more dangerous forms. His cat-eyes glinted with a hard light, and his claws were unsheathed, producing screeches from the icy concrete.

Aaron took a deep breath, as if he were about to dive underwater, and pulled open the door, hurrying inside the darkened hall. The door closed behind them with a barely-audible hiss of air. "It should be down this hall and to the right," he muttered, more to himself and Starra than to her. The mockingbird dæmon's beady black eyes gleamed in the half-light like polished obsidian. "Take a left after that…third door…"

Rosalie pressed one hand to Ty's head, trying to convince herself out of her terror. _What if they attack us? _she panicked. She had taken Tae Kwon Do classes like almost every little kid had, but she couldn't remember anything from it. _I was only a white belt! _

Tyxander let a purr rumble through his chest, sending vibrations up through her hand soothingly.

Aaron rushed around the corner, keeping light on his feet. He sprinted down the hall and then down another hall. Rosalie followed, trying and failing miserably to make a mental map in her head. It was like some kind of labyrinth--like one of those hedge mazes rich people like to create in their acres and acres of land--only here it was unlit and white, instead of fun and green.

"Here," he murmured. "This will lead us to one of the lower floors. We'll take this up to the lobby, and then we'll--" He cut off abruptly as footsteps sounded down the hall, quickly growing ominously closer. "Get back!" he hissed, flinging out his arm to press Rosalie back into the shadows of the corner.

Barely breathing, she obeyed, kneeling down to press shoulder-to-shoulder with Ty. "Can you see who it is?" she breathed.

He turned into a fly, flitting quickly out into the hall and back to perch on her shoulder. "It's that receptionist!" he whispered in his tiny voice.

Rosalie gasped. Turning around, she repeated his words to Aaron.

His eyes hardened. "I never liked that woman."

The receptionist--Abigail, Rosalie remembered--wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention. Her eyes on the clipboard in front of her, she was muttering to her dæmon. "Can you believe this, Bakkah?" she complained. "That little brat is spoiling everything. Is she'd just calm down, this wouldn't be such a problem. Honestly, most people pay thousands for this procedure." She was getting closer quickly, almost right next to them, and Rosalie pressed herself against the wall, chiding herself internally for wearing her blue jacket as opposed to her white one…

"Hello, Abigail," Aaron said calmly, stepping out right in front of her.

Abigail looked up irritably, her eyes sharp behind her glasses. "What…?" She trailed off, her face a terribly whiteish-green when she saw who it was. She looked like she was going to be sick. "No--"

"Yes," Aaron said firmly, reaching out to grab her shoulder. He pushed her back against the wall, groping behind her with one hand for the doorknob to the supplies closet, wrenching it open and pushing her inside. "Sorry about this. Consider this my two-weeks notice."

"You won't get away with this!" she shrieked, lashing out at him with her fingernails. "When the director hears this, he'll kill you, Brown! You're a dead man!"

Rosalie gasped, but Aaron showed no such surprise. "Tell him I'm coming for him, then," he whispered, deadly serious. Then he shut the down on her incredulous face contemptuously. Dusting his hands on the front of his jeans, he knocked softly on the door. "How's it going in there?"

The only answer was a muted screech and the sound of falling brooms.

"No one will hear her in there," Aaron said confidently, turning to Rosalie, his face falling quickly when he saw her expression. "I didn't hurt her, honey," he reassured her.

"No, that's not it." Rosalie shook her head slowly. "Did you hear what she said? She said something about a girl complaining about the procedure…"

He sucked in a breath. "Your friend. We need to hurry." He took off again, Starra peering over his shoulder, her gaze fixed on the door still.

Rosalie shivered as she followed. "They've changed," she murmured to Ty, a mouse on her shoulder.

"Hardened," he noted. "But they had to. They did what they had to do to survive."

Rosalie closed her eyes, nodding once. "Maybe."

Aaron peered around the edge of a corner, his eyes tight with worry. "We're almost there," he whispered. "You need to look out for the director's dæmon. She can blend in with the surroundings astonishingly well. Just make sure you don't fall for her tricks."

"O-okay," Rosalie stuttered.

Aaron tossed one glance over his shoulder before turning back, stepping out into the hall and hurrying down it. "We might have to overpower the guards," he murmured.

As if on cue, a door to their left burst open, and a man in a white lab coat flew out. Aaron took one step forward, grabbing Rosalie's arm and yanking her behind him.

"Jay!" she cried, recognizing that tousled dark brown hair anywhere.

Jay whipped to the side, his face pale under his dark hair. It made his eyes look very blue--as blue as his mother's. "Thank God you're safe," he gasped, stumbling forward towards them, but Aaron pressed Rosalie even closer behind him.

"Jay Collins," he said dryly, his fingers biting into the soft skin of Rosalie's forearm. "Have you come to deliver us to your father?"

Jay looked aghast. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "Why would I do that?" "Because of _that _at your belt." Aaron nodded towards something enclosed in a black leather sheath--the hilt of a silver dagger.

"I stole it from my father," Jay said fiercely, while Rosalie just stared like an idiot. "Take a look at it, if you want. You would recognize it anywhere, wouldn't you?" He pulled it effortlessly out of the sheath--showing years of practice--and held it out, hilt first.

Aaron didn't move. "Toss it on the ground," he ordered.

Jay twisted his mouth. "You think I'm here to kill you," he said, making it more a statement of fact than a question.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Aaron demanded.

Jay locked eyes with Aaron--dark blue into brown--then bent his head. "Not at all in this world, sir." He lightly tossed the dagger to the ground. It rattled against the cold tiles.

With a quick glance to make sure Jay hadn't moved, Aaron stooped swiftly and picked it up, turning it over in his hand, keeping the other firmly holding Rosalie in place. He tilted the knife towards the light, letting it catch along the blade.

"You can see the Institute's seal," Jay pointed out, trying to be helpful. "Right at the--"

"I can see it," Aaron cut him off. Jay pulled back into silence. "But I don't see how this proves anything." He made no move to give the dagger back.

Rosalie looked back between her father's hard face and Jay's pleading one. "Dad," she whispered, tugging slightly away. Aaron didn't lessen his grip. "Dad," she repeated urgently. "I trust Jay."

"You barely know him!"

"He helped me here while you were…away." She winced as she said the words, seeing the hurt look on her father's face.

"You're here to rescue the girl," Jay said quickly. "I can help you. They're keeping her in a room off of the Bisector chamber. It won't take but a few seconds to grab her. I can make it so she comes with me alone for testing. You can take her out the back."

"What's in it for you?" Aaron demanded. "You have to get something out of it. You're betraying your father and your job. What are you after?"

"Nothing," Jay said simply. "I have nothing to gain from this, but I don't need it."

"Oh?"

"You don't have to believe me, sir," Jay said with a weary wave of his hand. "I know that most don't take me seriously around here, or are afraid of me because of my parents. I'm not unaware of that. I would just like to be judged as a person--my_self_--rather than my parents' sins." His eyes were clear, but his face was still bone-pale.

Rosalie couldn't help but admire him, this boy that was struggling so much to be an individual, but was floundering under his father's crushing influence. She pried at her father's fingers, gently loosening them. "Dad, we can trust him," she said softly, stepping back to stand beside Jay.

Aaron still looked torn.

"We have no choice," she insisted. "Time is running out." _And we have to save Leah… _she added silently. _Before it's too late._

"Fine." Aaron lightly tossed the dagger at Jay; he caught it with one hand. "If I see you put one toe out of line…" He let the threat hang in the air, Starra fluffing her feathers out fiercely.

"Thank you, Dr. Brown," Jay said, obviously relieved.

"No, it's not Dr. Brown anymore. It's just Aaron." His eyes hardened again as he looked between Rosalie and Jay. "But you can call me 'sir.'"

Jay laughed weakly. "Yes, sir."

Aaron nodded, his jaw set, and then turned around to press his ear to the door. "Stay here," he hissed. "I'm going to disable the cameras in this quadrant." He was in and gone before Rosalie could even wish him good luck.

Jay leaned back against the wall, one arm thrown over his face. "I can't believe…that your father would trust me…after everything that my parents have done…to you, your family. Why?"

Rosalie felt a rush of fondness for this boy. Stepping close to him, she put her hand delicately on his shoulder, not knowing if she was going too far. "Because that's who he is," she said simply.

Jay smiled, moving his arm away. He reached out and gently took her hand, squeezing her fingers softly. "Then you're very lucky," he whispered.

Rosalie was sure she was blushing fiercely from the close contact, but before she could open her mouth and stutter something no doubt incoherent, Jay's expression clouded, and he fumbled around his belt for something.

"I want you to take this," he murmured, pulling another sheath from where it must have been the whole time under his lab coat. "I know you don't know how to use it…but I want you to have it anyway." He pressed the warm leather into her hand, closing her fingers around it. "My parents' sins aren't my own, true enough…but…" He looked up at her, laying his hand onto of the knife. "I don't want to see anything happen to you, Rosalie. You mean too much to me for me to let something to happen to you."

Her breath caught in her chest. "Jay," she started, but at that moment, Aaron returned. He cast a spectacularly acidic look at Jay when he saw where his hand was placed. Jay dropped Rosalie's hand and stepped back, flushed.

Aaron grabbed Rosalie by the shoulder and thrust her in front of him, grumbling to himself. Rosalie was sure that if Jay's dæmon had been visible, her and Starra would have had some words. She surreptitiously clipped the nondescript knife onto her belt, tucking it under her jacket and out of view.

"T-this is the door. Sir," Jay added, his voice still embarrassed. "We'll sneak in here and grab her. I'll distract them while you get away." Jay opened the door gently, then disappeared into the darkness.

Rosalie went to follow, but Aaron caught her wrist. "What's going on between you two?" he asked tensely.

"What? Are you serious, Dad? Now's really not the best time for that, don't you think?" She felt her cheeks burn, and knew she must be as red as her hair.

Aaron nodded stiffly, following her into the small room. They had crossed over to where Jay was kneeling, whispering to someone in the darkness. "It's okay," he was saying. "It's okay, miss. We're here to get you out of here."

"Leah!" Rosalie fell to her knees beside her friend, alarmed to see her head lolling on her shoulder limply, her blonde hair damp. Frithan was a pile on black-and-white fur on the ground beside her, his long whiskers blowing gently as he breathed. "What's wrong with them?" she asked Jay.

Jay was in doctor mode now, his face concentrated. "A mild sedative," he murmured, pulling back one of Leah's eyelids. "She should be fine. She'll wake up soon, so we better hurry."

"I can't let you do that, Jay."

The lights snapped on at that same instant, blinding Rosalie. Rough hands grabbed her, pulling her away from Leah and tossing her into a chair. Icy restraints clipped sharply around her wrists. "What's going on?" she screamed, thrashing wildly. "Ty? Tyxander!" Her heart was racing, and fear for her dæmon--her own dear soul--was driving her half-mad with terror. "Tyxander!"

"Shut her up!" someone, their voice sounding distinctly familiar, snapped. "She'll alert the director."

_Dr. Clark, _she realized, with a thrill of fear. "Stop this!" she cried. "Dad? Jay? Tyxander!"

"Stand down, Aaron, or I swear, I'll kill you where you stand." She didn't sound anything like the frazzled woman Rosalie had met in the lab, with her warm armful of rabbit dæmon.

Wrenching open her eyes, Rosalie nearly screamed again when she saw what was happening. Aaron was standing in the middle of the room, his hands half-raised. Jay was a crumpled heap on the floor by Leah, blood glistening at the back of his neck.

Dr. Clark stood in front of Aaron, her eyes so wide that a strip of white was visible all the way around. Her short hair was in disarray, and her dæmon had his long, sharp teeth bared. And in her small, wildly shaky hands was a pistol aimed straight at Aaron's heart.

* * *

**Dun dun dun! Isn't it nice that I leave this at a cliffie, too? All my mental resources, so to say, are going towards my new Warriors fic and NaNoWriMo, so I might get around to this one eventually, but it's definitely on the back burner for now. :P My bad.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter is a BEAST. Freaking 3.5K long! Woooooot!**

**Thanks to Wrandom Writer for reminding me (unintentionally) that I needed to update this. ^.^' I blame school, pretzel sticks, and _Lost_. -nods-**

* * *

"Make one more move, and it'll be your last," Dr. Clark threatened, sounding entirely unlike herself—her usually gentle voice rasped in her throat like the growl of an animal.

"Ty," Rosalie sobbed softly, so quietly she could barely hear herself. She would know, she told herself, she would _know _if he was harmed. "Tyxander, where are you?"

"Here." His low voice ruffled the hair dangling in front of her eyes, and his warm nose pressed against the side of her neck. "I'm fine; we're okay."

She moved her hand to reach for him, to press him against her chest and feel the beat of his heart against her own, but icy-cold metal bit into the tender skin on the inside of her wrists. Through tear-blurred eyes, she could see a pair of gleaming silver handcuffs linked her hands together. She yanked at them, but got nothing from it save from a sear of pain.

Aaron had his hands at his side, his expression horrified. "Lana," he said, sounding like he couldn't believe his eyes. "It's me! It's Aaron! Don't you recognize me?"

Dr. Clark was shaking her head, a weirdly stiff movement. "I won't let you," she whispered through unmoving lips, her bracelets clinking against the metal of the pistol. "I won't let you ruin what I have here." She stepped forward, keeping the gun level despite her shaking hands. "On the ground now!" she screamed, her eyes wild.

Aaron didn't move. "Let's talk about this," he suggested calmly in the voice he used to use when Rosalie and Tyler were fighting. "You don't need the gun."

"Ted," Dr. Clark hissed. "Ted!"

Dr. Richards came forward, his face uncharacteristically seriously. "Lana, please," he murmured. "This isn't what you want, is it?" His black squirrel dæmon chittered softly, but Dr. Clark's creamy rabbit dæmon wasn't listening; he was as fixated on Aaron as she was.

"Get him on the ground! Take whatever he has; he must have a weapon. _Nothing _will stop this."

Rosalie bit back a screech. "Ty," she breathed. "Ty, you need to go help Dad. He's close enough that you can reach him."

Tyxander pressed closer to her neck. "They'll hurt us," he growled. "They won't hurt him."

Rosalie shook her head jerkily. "_She'll_ hurt him," she pleaded. "Please. For me."

Tyxander hesitated. "I'll let you loose," he said at last, and she felt him shift against her neck, his fur smoothening out into the slick pelt of a mouse as he crept slowly down her arm. She shifted her arms, bringing them onto her other side where the two doctors couldn't see him through the bars of the chair. He perched on her wrist, his whiskers tickling her skin, and then she felt his tiny teeth begin to chew at the metal, checking to see if it was thin enough to bite through. His frustration prickled in Rosalie's heart, but she kept her eyes on the scene in front of her.

Her father was still standing, his eyes furious. "Don't you know what Collins is doing?" he demanded in a harsh voice. "What he does? What he did to Mitchell?"

Dr. Clark scoffed. "All in the name of science," she snapped. "Mitchell's mother knew what she was doing when she gave him to us. We were his parents. We took care of him."

"We destroyed him!" Aaron yelled. "He's nothing now; not even a human being! With his dæmon—"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Dr. Clark's hands shook again, and she closed her eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses, as if she was willing him to disappear. "I've worked too hard for this! This research is my life!"

"Please, Lana. We're friends, aren't we?"

"We were," she corrected coldly, snapping out of her reverie. "Before you decided to turn traitor. What do you think that boy can do outside of these walls?" she demanded. "Just like you said: nothing. We are responsible for him! You're...you're stealing!"

Dr. Richards had stepped forward from his position at the side to grab Aaron's arms, twisting them firmly but painlessly behind his back. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't apologize," Dr. Clark snapped. "Now we'll bring him to the director ourselves, won't we, Ted? Imagine what he has in store for us—the research he'll allow us! We'll be moved up the scales here!"

Rosalie felt sick, and her hands were clammy. _What kind of people are they? _she wondered wildly. _Sick people...not even people: they're monsters. _

There was a sharp click, and the pressure was off of Rosalie's wrists. Not daring to move, she silently willed Tyxander to come back up and hide in the shadow of her hair.

Dr. Clark adjusted her glasses, flipping her short hair behind her ears, all the while keeping one hand on the gun. "Now, then. I think it's time for a little reunion with the Director, don't you?"

Aaron was silent, but his eyes darted uncontrollably to Rosalie.

"Oh, we'll leave her here in Ted's care," Dr. Clark said with a disinterested wave of her hand. "She wasn't much use around here anyway. To be honest, I think Steven hired her here for some sort of latent affection for you. It was like having a miniature you around, except without the nagging. She's nearly as useless as you were."

Despite the situation, Rosalie still felt a sting as the insult hit home. She curled her lip at the woman, feeling rage burn in her chest.

Laughing coldly at this, Dr. Clark took a deep breath, pressing the muzzle of the gun against Aaron's shoulder blades. "Don't forget that you were the one to teach me how to shoot, _Doctor_," she whispered in his ear, shoving him forward. "Take care of the girl, Ted. I'll be back for her later."

The door slammed behind them with a strange sense of finality.

Rosalie turned her face away from the man she had grown to trust—the fun, easy-going mechanic behind one of the most nightmarish machines she'd ever seen. Dr. Richards had moved towards Jay's prone body, looking critically at the wound at the back of his head. He prodded slightly, wincing as blood ran over his hands in tiny rivulets. With a grunt, he lifted the teenager and walked him over to a couch that ran along one side of the room, Jay's hand limply hanging out of Dr. Richards arms. He laid Jay down gently, arranging his arm on the side of the couch and pressing his fingers against Jay's throat, counting his pulse under his breath.

"How is he?" she asked, unable to help herself. Jay had already told her Leah was alright, but the greenish color of her friend's skin was unnerving.

Dr. Richards looked up. "A concussion," he told her. "Lana really clocked him with her gun. It's not as bad as it seems," he tried to reassure her. "Head wounds bleed a lot." He went about the room, peeking into cabinets for bandages.

"Will he be okay?"

Dr. Richards bit his lip. "Yes," he answered at last. "Lana would never k—seriously harm the Director's son."

Rosalie felt a chill run down her back. _He was going to say "kill," _she realized.

His face was intent as he brushed back Jay's dark hair, sticky with blood, and poured some clear liquid onto it, using gauze pads to wipe away the blood.

"Why are you helping him?" she challenged. "You'd rather him just die, wouldn't you? You and that heartless woman who took my father! I trusted you," she went on bitterly. "I trusted you; so did my dad, and you betrayed both of us. You betrayed everyone when you did what you did to Mitchell!"

He paused in his cleaning. "You know about Mitchell?" he asked, sounding a lot calmer than he looked.

"I know everything. I know about Ziz and Solas, and I know about the children that have been kidnapped. I watched the Director's wife steal one of them myself." She was shaking all over—shaking with anger and hurt and betrayal.

Dr. Richards shook his head slightly as he placed a thick white bandage over Jay's cut, tying a strip of gauze around his head to keep it in place. "You have to understand," he said, resting one hand in Jay's hair absently. "I didn't want any of this. When I made that machine, I thought I was helping people. I thought that people would be happy that the Bisector was made and they could stretch the bond between human and dæmon." He shook his head again. "I was wrong. That machine has haunted me since the day it started working."

"You have to destroy it!" Rosalie insisted, trying to get him on her side. "You have to! You made it, you're the one that has to break it."

"It's not that easy, Rosalie."

"And why not?" she demanded.

He covered his face with a bloody hand. "You're too young," he muttered. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," she gritted out.

"The Director is my boss," he told her, turning to look at her. "He calls the shots. If I break the Bisector, it's not only my life that's on the line—it's everyone else in this division. Steven, Aaron, Lana—"

Rosalie cut him off with a savage scoff, narrowing her eyes. "As if that woman deserves to live," she said derisively.

Dr. Richards shook his head sadly. "You're so, so young." Waving off her protests, he asked, "Do you want something to drink? I can't let you out, but I can try and make you comfortable." He stood up and walked towards a door situated against the wall, sliding his keycard down the side and stepping in, coming back quickly with a small Styrofoam cup of water. "Here, I'll help you drink it."

Glaring as fiercely as she could, Rosalie leaned forward and spit on his shoes. Tyxander hissed, leaping down onto the ground and arching his cat back, his green eyes flinty.

Frowning softly, Dr. Richards sighed, placing the cup on the ground beside him. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." He scratched absently at his bald head, reaching into his pocket with the other.

Rosalie watched him sharply out of the corners of her eyes, not wanting to look this man in the eye.

There was a crackling sound like crumpled paper, a small _beep, _and then Tyxander screeched, the sound piercing Rosalie to the bone. She fell back screaming along with her dæmon, twisting her head away, as she was shocked with a jolt of electricity. Small white lights blinked behind her closed eyelids.

When she opened her eyes, her throat raw from her scream, she saw that Tyxander was curled in a heap of downy black fur, a metallic glint around his neck. Looking closer, she saw that it was a thin collar, made of some kind of white material that gleamed like cartilage. "What is that?" she rasped weakly. "What did you do to us?"

"It's a Controller," Dr. Richards replied, sounding truly upset. "A prototype. The Director will be pleased that it works." Water was slowly puddling around his knees, the cup overturned farther away.

Tyxander was still limp, but his ear twitched slightly, and Rosalie let out a breath of relief she didn't know she was holding. "Rose...Rosalie?"

"I'm here, Ty," she said at once. "I'm here. I won't let him hurt you again." She glared venomously up at Dr. Richards, daring him to disprove her.

He stood up, brushing off the front of his black pants, and strode away towards the wall. He came back with a large dustbin, dropping back down into a squat and holding it out to Tyxander.

"Don't you touch him!" Rosalie screeched. "Don't touch him! He's not yours!"

"Relax, Rosalie. Please be calm." He pressed the bin underneath Tyxander's limp form, easing him onto the flat portion. Tipping it slightly, he dumped the dæmon onto Rosalie's lap. Tyxander mewled softly, stirring, trying to right himself, but the Controller bit into his soft neck.

Crying softly, she leaned down, trying to press at least her face against Tyxander's but the cuffs were still around her wrists. A sudden, dangerous thought occurred to her. _Would it work? _"Dr. Richards," she said, making her voice weak and shaky. "I...I am thirsty. Please, could you grab me a cup of water? I'll drink it this time."

Dr. Richards smiled tightly—not the usual eye-crinkling smile that made her laugh—and responded, "Sure, Rosalie. I'll go get it." He got to his feet, knees cracking, and started off towards the same door that was still ajar.

_Sucker, _she thought, with a rush of fierce glee. Flipping her wrists, she twisted off the cuffs, laying them gently down on the tile floor so they wouldn't make a sound, knowing she had seconds. Tyxander was with her, pressed up against her legs, unsteady on his paws but still walking, even as she pressed herself behind the open door and pulled the silver dagger from her belt, holding it steady in her hand.

She could hear the water cooler bubbling as he filled the cup. He was humming softly to himself as he turned and headed back out the door, not noticing that Rosalie wasn't even in the chair until he was standing still, confused, and the knife was at his throat.

He gasped, dropping the cup, spilling icy-cold water around Rosalie's feet, but she didn't care; all her concentration was on the knife in her hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded, sounding angry, not scared.

"Tell me where she took my father," she hissed in his ear, pressing the blade against the soft of his throat, feeling as if she was about to pass out. "Where is the Director?"

Dr. Richards gulped, the dagger shallowly cutting his throat, making a small trickle of blood run down the silver face of the blade. "I don't know," he answered.

"Where?!" she repeated, watching Tyxander hold down the squirrel dæmon out of the corner of her eyes. "I know you know! Help me, Dr. Richards. Help me find my dad, and I'll destroy that machine."

"I told you," he rasped. "It's not that easy. The Director—"

"I don't care about the freaking Director!" she screamed. "I care about my father! Now tell me where he is or...or..."

"Or you'll kill me?" Dr. Richards asked calmly. "Don't do this, Rosalie."

"You hurt Jay," she accused. "You and that woman. You captured my friend, stole my father from me." She was running out of time, she reminded herself. Angrily, she brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her wrist. "Go in the room." She prodded his back. "Start walking!"

He had his hands up like someone getting arrested, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, but he went, stepping inside the room he had gotten the water from. As she had hoped, it was little more than a broom closet, the water cooler standing in one corner and a pile of boxes in the other.

She pushed him roughly inside, holding out her hand. "Give me your keycard."

He held it out mutely, his eyes sad.

Snatching it from him, she slammed the door shut behind her, hearing the soft _beep _of the door locking. Just to make sure, she tugged on the handle, but it didn't budge.

Letting out a shaky breath, she pressed her back against the wall, sliding slowly down to the floor. "I could have killed him, Ty!" she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

"You wouldn't," he argued, placing one soft paw in her lap. "I would know. You wouldn't have."

She shook her head against her hands, feeling Tyxander creep up into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his soft fur, when a small crackle of static sparked between them. She pulled back quickly, looking at the collar around his neck. "Let's get that thing off of you."

"I can't change when I'm in it," he told her, lifting his chin for her fingers to pry at the Controller. "I tried. It shocks me."

Biting her lip, she dug her fingernails into the slippery material, but it wouldn't budge. She turned him around, pulling at it from the other side.

"You're choking me!" he protested, gagging.

"Sorry," she apologized, but twisted a small knob sharply. The collar fell off, curling into a small pile of glinting white.

Tyxander glared at it, turning around and kicking his back feet at it, like a real cat kicking up grass. "Stupid thing," he cursed.

After a moment's hesitation, Rosalie placed it in her pocket. "It may come in handy later," she told him.

He nodded. "Good idea." He whipped his head around at a low moan.

Following his gaze, she saw that Jay was struggling to sit up, his dark blue eyes out of focus. "Jay!" she cried, running over to him, placing one hand on his back to steady him. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he murmured, lifting one hand to his hand. "I'm okay." Then his gaze sharpened. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are _you _okay? Where's Dr. Brown?" As he asked the words, he was shuffling around in his pockets, a look of intense relief coming over him when he closed his hand around the shiny black exoskeleton of his dæmon. He drew her out, pressing her hard body against his cheek tenderly.

"I'm okay," she whispered. "But Dr. Clark took him. She took my father." She felt the stupid tears well in her eyes again, and she brushed them angrily away.

Jay closed his eyes, a pained look crossing his face. "This is all my fault." He pushed his face into his hands. "This is all my fault."

"Jay, I need you to help me get him back." Rosalie felt her voice crack. "Please."

"She took him to my father," he said distantly, standing up. He wobbled a bit, but straightened before she could help him. "In his office, no doubt. My...my mother will be there, too." He was pale; it made his eyes look very blue. "But...I'll help you. We'll get him back, Rosalie. I promise." Without warning, he turned and took her into his arms, pressing his face against her hair. He was so close she could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, like she could with Ty. Only Ty was her dæmon; this was something else entirely. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a broken voice. "I'm so, so sorry."

Rosalie didn't know how to react. Then, very slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder and closing her eyes, breathing in the smell of him, a smell like test tubes and clean laundry. "Thank you," she whispered, a single tear sliding down her cheek and soaking into his gray shirt.

* * *

**Oh for the love of all that is holy, I cannot write mushy scenes. That was complete and utter crap. Well, it's like they say: You can't write well about Canada if you've never been to Canada, eh? **

**Well, maybe that's what the Canadians say. ;)**

**R&R, plz~**

**Shadow**


	16. Chapter 16

**Quick updates! Woot! And at 1:30 in the morning! Double-Woot!**

**_WildCroconaw _- -blushes- You're so nice. I love how you review all my chapters; you are ten kinds of awesome. ^.^**

**Sorry for such short ANs, but I'm really tired. :P **

**Onto the story~**

* * *

Jay's hands gently lifted Leah's face, and once again, he pulled back her eyelid to check her eyes. Rosalie waited tensely to see what he was going to say.

"It seems I was wrong," he said at last, letting her head droop onto her shoulder. "This isn't just a normal sedative. Her and her dæmon are in a medically-induced catatonic state."

"Medically-induced... She's in a coma?" Rosalie bit her lip, trying to stay calm. "Can you bring her out of it?"

Jay shook his head wearily. "It's not that easy," he sighed, absently rubbing the bandage on the back of his head. "I don't have any clue what kind of medicine they gave her to make her this way. And I don't know how to bring her out of it, or the dosages needed. A few milliliters of extra medicine could kill her."

Rosalie gasped. "Well...what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here!"

"I don't think we have much choice." His face was grim. "We can't bring her with us; she can't walk, and we can't carry her."

"I'll carry her," she said at once, knowing that it was her fault in the first place for bringing her here.

Jay sighed, a tight, impatient sound. "Rosalie, we don't have time for this. She'll be relatively safe here; the shock of my father seeing yours will be enough to distract them for a while. By then, we'll have gotten your father out of here and—"

"And then they'll use her as bait," Rosalie finished for him. "We can't do that, and you know it."

The door to the room creaked, just slightly, pushing forward maybe an inch.

At once, Jay grabbed Rosalie's arm, pulling her behind him. The dagger in his hand winked in the fluorescent lights. "Who's there?"

A black beak poked its way around the door, followed by a pair of bright golden eyes with a splotch of white fur-feathers in between them.

"Ziz!" Rosalie cried, racing forward, her hands out as if she was going to stroke her silky pelt. Tyxander was a cat still, and he pressed his back against Ziz's scaly talons.

"Rosalie," Ziz said warmly in her deep voice. "I couldn't stand by and not come back in to help. I'm here to protect you."

"No," Rosalie disagreed, her mind working fast. "No, I don't need protecting, but there is something else you can do for me."

"Anything," the griffin dæmon said at once.

Whirling around, Rosalie raced back to Leah's side, gesturing to her with one hand. "I need you to take Leah out of here."

Ziz's eyes were wide. "They were going to...to try and—" She broke off, looking sick.

"Yes," Rosalie sighed. "But we need to get her out of here. Her and her dæmon—"

But Ziz had already prowled around behind the chair, sniffing at the cuffs that linked Leah's wrists together. Rearing back on her hind lion legs, and with a flash of gleaming black claws, the cuffs clanked noisily to the floor. The griffin's talons were gentle as she cradled the unconscious girl with all the tenderness with which she had held Solas. "I will care for her," she promised, looking back up at Rosalie and Jay. "But where is her dæmon?"

"Here." Jay held out a hesitant hand towards the chinchilla-formed Frithan, as if he were trying to pick him up.

Seeing this, Ziz leaned down and opened her beak. Rosalie was shocked to see that the dæmon had a full set of sharp carnivore teeth underneath her beak, and the seemingly-hard beak material around her mouth was actually soft and pliable, curling up easily over her fangs so she could gently grab Frithan's scruff. She looked up at Rosalie, Frithan swinging in her jaws, and nodded towards the door. "Open it, please," she mumbled, her mouth full of black-and-white fur.

Rosalie darted over to the door, opening it wide enough for the dæmon to awkwardly step out, but Ziz seemed to have only a little trouble standing on her hind legs. _She's done this before with __Mitchell, _she realized. "Come back safe," she said softly.

Ziz nodded, leaning forward to quickly press her soft cheek against Rosalie's palm, then half-spread her wings for balance, holding Leah's small form against her chest with one talon, and shuffled down the hallway, disappearing into the gloom easily with her night-dark pelt.

Rosalie, relieved, turned around to see Jay's pale face. Alarmed, she hurried towards him, asking, "What's wrong, Jay?"

He shook his head swiftly. "That was...a dæmon?"

"One of Mitchell's," she told him, her head tilted slightly. "You didn't know, did you?"

Jay pressed his palm against his face. "No," he breathed. "I had theories...but I hoped that my parents weren't really...weren't really—"

Rosalie placed a hand on his shoulder, the feeling no longer awkward, but warm and comforting. "I know," she whispered. "When this is over—"

"If this is over," he finished bitterly.

"Don't say that!" she protested. "You can live by yourself. You're seventeen, after all."

Jay nodded, his eyes soft. "Thanks, Rosalie. We should get going. They're probably in the Director's office." He headed out the door and down the hallway, Rosalie following quickly behind.

In the half-light, everything seemed darker, more strange. Paintings of beautiful landscapes that had been placed every so often on the walls to add a little color to the windowless building seemed sinister, the eaves of the houses shadowed, and the flowers bleached of their color. Rosalie saw all of this and shivered, glad that she wasn't the only one in this place, and that Jay was with her. When she thought of him she was confused—even though his parents ran this place and he had grown up in it, he still was extremely outspoken against it, like any normal human would be, but did his parental influence mean nothing? Did he really have no qualms against going against his father and mother?

Jay's quick pace turned into a tiptoe as the floor underneath them turned suddenly to carpet. Rosalie recognized this place—they had somehow gotten onto the floor with the offices, though she didn't remember going up any stairs. There was Dr. Steward's office, the door slightly ajar, the elevator doors they had used to come up here so many times, and there at the end of the hall...

"Oh, God," Jay breathed. "It's _her._"

Rosalie felt a true thrill of terror as she saw the _Archaeopteryx_ dæmon standing under the ceiling-high windows, her green-and-gold plumage bleached silver by the moonlight streaming in behind her. Her red-amber eyes glinted as white specks in the darkness, like a dog caught in the glow of headlights on a car. Seeing them, she barely didn't move, only curl her strange reptilian lips back to bare her triangular teeth, letting out a low, but menacing hiss.

"What do we do?" Rosalie whispered to Jay, not feeling like she had enough air in her lungs to even do that.

"I don't know," he responded in the same volume. "She hasn't alerted my father yet, but he must be close. Though they're separate, they still stick close together."

The dæmon watched all of this with blank eyes, but her long feather-serrated tail swished behind her like a cat waiting to pounce. She opened her mouth again, and this time she spoke: "Where is the girl?" Her voice was like grinding gravel, guttural and foreign—the sound of a past time.

"What girl?" Jay called back, gripping Rosalie's hand tightly in his own. Rosalie squeezed his hand back with equal pressure.

"Don't be stupid, boy," the dæmon snapped, clicking her teeth together. "We know she's missing. It must have been that idiot's idea." She nodded to Rosalie, her eyes narrowed.

"Shut up!" Jay's eyes were narrowed. "Don't—"

"Don't what?" the dæmon inquired, her head tilted slyly to one side, but Rosalie noticed she was stepping closer and closer. Her feet were bird-like, but had claws as long as Rosalie's fingers, curled and deadly. "Don't say anything mean about your little girlfriend here? Don't be stupid, boy," she mocked. "Do you think anyone could ever love you after what you did? Do you honestly think anyone can respect you for what you did? Truly respect you?" The dæmon paused, her eyes malicious. "I don't think so."

Jay was white as a sheet, his eyes wide. Rosalie twisted her fingers through his, feeling how cold and clammy his were. "Jay," she whispered. "What is she talking about?"

"Ah," the dæmon purred, dropping her head and raising her wings. "She doesn't know, does she? Were you afraid she would turn from you, or were you just cowardly?"

Jay's hands were trembling, but he said nothing.

"It seems it's storytime." The dæmon's voice was full of cruel laughter. "Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jay."

"Verendis," Jay said suddenly. "Don't."

"He was a good little boy," the dæmon—Verendis, Rosalie assumed—continued. "His parents were geniuses ahead of their time. True scholars among scholars. With the money they earned from their research, they built this place, a large building full of people who would give their lives for their research." She was slowly circling them now, coming closer and closer with every revolution.

Tyxander shivered in Rosalie's arms, his teeth bared, but he didn't dare risk going closer.

Verendis hissed. "Then one day, the parents decided to try and do what had never been seen before in this world—to try and stretch the bond between human and dæmon, to see how far apart they could pull them before they fragmented inside their own minds. They put the two on separate boxes and yanked them apart with engines and pressure switches."

"That's murder!" Rosalie screamed.

The dæmon's eyes flashed dangerously. "If you want to keep that little kitty safe," she said softly, nodding to Tyxander, "you best keep your mouth shut, girl."

Rosalie glared at her silently, trying to pierce her with the force of her hatred. She pressed Tyxander against her chest tightly, feeling his chest stir with breath.

"That's what I thought," Verendis said smugly, turning around and starting to head the other way. Rosalie could see that her skin was a strange orange-ivory with scales that glinted in the moonlight. "So this boy came to work here with his father and mother when he was just a little older than you, girl. He was a smart boy, a tribute to his parentage.

"Then one day, he had an idea. Why not, instead of harsh techniques, use rotations of only a few inches at best to slowly stretch the bond, keeping down the levels of shock and death, and using gentleness instead. At first, the boy's father thought he was being as soft as usual, but then...he saw."

Rosalie felt cold creeping over her as she realized what Verendis was saying. She didn't dare look up at Jay's face.

"The boy and his father hired someone—a mechanic—to build the machine: the Bisector. First into the machine was a useless child, sold into our experiment by his desperate mother. And so," she finished, stepping right in front of Rosalie, so close she could see the thin blue veins running under her scaly hide, smell the strange, warm scent of her, like leather, "you know the truth now, Rosalie. Isn't that what you wanted?" Verendis laughed, the sound full of derisiveness and triumph, throwing back her head and hissing.

At that moment, Jay lashed out with the dagger Rosalie didn't know he was holding, aiming it straight for Verendis's neck. The dæmon let out a squawk of shock as the blade scraped through the blue feathers at her throat and hit home, sending rivulets of blood coursing down her plumage. She cursed, reaching out with a clawed wing to land three parallel scratches down Jay's face.

At once, Rosalie ran forward, Tyxander at her side as a leopard, and punched Verendis with all her strength, feeling the dæmon's delicate bird ribs crack under her fists. Verendis screamed, beating the air wildly with her wings, but Jay had his shoe pressed on her long neck, and the dagger was at the tip of her breastbone, pressed against the bone.

"Get off of me!" she screamed again, thrashing wildly, but Jay kept the dagger steady. "Jacob! Jacob! They're in the offices! The offices!"

"Shut up!" Jay repeated, pressing his foot down over her throat, making her choke and gag. "If you alert him, I'll—" But he cut off, looking over his shoulder with an expression of terror on his pale face.

The Director was standing just behind them, flanked by a nervous-looking Dr. Steward on one side and her father, bound in cuffs, on the other side. Dr. Clark stood behind them, and in her small hands were Starra and Volara, both with glinting white Controllers on their necks. Rosalie felt sick.

"Dad!" she cried, moving forward, but the Director easily held up a gun, pointing it straight at her head.

"One more step, girl, and I'll shoot." His voice was calm, arrogant, even thought he had one hand pressed against his side, a wince on his face. His eyes darted over her shoulder to Verendis, under the foot of Jay, and his face filled with incredulity. "Jay! Let her up at once!" he snarled, his eyes narrowed, and in that instant, Rosalie could see the shadow of his dæmon on his human face.

"Father," Jay greeted, aiming for calm but getting only edgy and nervous. "Let the doctor go, please."

"You don't call the shots around here!" Director Collins gritted out. "I do. I'm making the rules, and here's the first one: if you don't move in the next three seconds, I'm going to paint the ground with her blood." He gestured to Rosalie with the muzzle of his gun. "Is that clear enough for you?"

Jay didn't say anything, but his eyes were filled with fear warring with anger.

"One," he said calmly, his eyes narrowed lazily. "Two..." He clicked the safety off the gun with a sharp snap. Aiming it carefully, he opened his mouth to say three, and something hit him. A large white something, nearly as big as a condor.

The gun went off, shockingly loud in the silence of the hallway.

"Solas!" she screamed, seeing the scarlet blood stain his pure-white plumage like an overturned cup of pomegranate juice. "Solas! Oh God, no! No, no, no!"

Solas tilted, wobbling in flight, and Rosalie almost expected him to pull out of it, to right his wings and turn to wheel at Collins with outstretched talons ready to shred.

But he didn't. With a scream of anger and defiance and pain, Solas fell to the ground, skidding into a prone pile of bloodstained feathers, and laid ominously still in the dark hallway.

* * *

**Kinda a cliche way to end the chapter, but what can you do? :P I'm off to bed now. 'Ta!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	17. Chapter 17

**Aaaaw, this fic is almost done. Only maybe three or four more chapters and then...donesies! :D **

* * *

Rosalie was sobbing openly, her hands clenched so tightly that her fingernails bit into her palms, drawing blood. "You killed him," she accused, turning to the Director, who didn't look angry, but stunned. "You killed him!" She ran to him, her fingers hovering over Solas's wings, seeing the dark bullet hole that punched a gap in his side. Pulling off her jacket, she pressed it over the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Don't bother," a voice came, a gentle and kind voice.

Rosalie turned her tear-streaked face up to see the black-haired woman with the lynx dæmon, putting a name to her for the first time: Myrilla. The high, cold voice Rosalie had always pictured her with seemed extremely unfitting now.

"He's a dæmon, Rosalie. He won't be helped by you." She crouched down beside her, reaching out to gently stroke his feathers, her eyes distant. "So much work went into this... You overreacted, Jacob."

"How was I supposed to know?" he gritted out. "Something came flying out at me. Look." He held up his wrist, bleeding down his arm, blood dripping off his fingers. "He owed me," he spat. "Who did he think he was, attacking me like that! I created him!"

"You didn't!" Rosalie pulled Solas away from Myrilla's grasp, laying his limp form on her lap and cradling his head gently, tamping down the disgust, hating the revulsion she automatically felt by touching someone else's dæmon. Keeping steady pressure on his wound, she looked up, locking eyes with her father.

The look of rage on his face was terrifying. "Idiot," he spat. "You're a murderer! What about Mitchell and Ziz?"

"They were useless anyway," Collins said, wrapping a handkerchief around his bleeding wrist. "A waste of space. Our newer subjects will be much better."

"Like Dawson?" Aaron challenged. "What about him?"

No one said anything.

Myrilla stood up, brushing off the front of her shirt. She walked over to Jay, placing a hand on his shoulder, her bright blue eyes soft. "Dear, why don't you give me the knife? I'll take it from here."

Jay's hand shook. "I can't, Mother. I can't do that. This _has _to stop. This is all my fault."

"No, no, Jay." She shook her head, squeezing his shoulder, trying to pull him off of Verendis's neck, but he kept firm pressure. "Going against us isn't the way. This girl is trying to lead you away from what you love—science, your parents, your life. Do you really want that? Would you really give all that up for some little girl?" Her dæmon's stubby tail twitched from side to side slowly, his matching blue eyes fathomless.

Rosalie sparked with anger, but Tyxander had his teeth in the loose edge of her sleeve. He shook his head, just slightly, and she understood.

Jay was blinking rapidly, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "You and Father...what you're trying to do with Leah—"

"She wants this, son," the Director said gruffly. "Everyone wants freedom. Did you forget that when you gave us that idea for the Bisector? You want people to be happy, don't you?"

Rosalie looked from the Director's impassive face to his dæmon's fierce reptilian face, her teeth bared in hate and anger. She knew that Verendis wanted to hurt Jay, but the Director was keeping his son distracted, confusing him. "Jay," she hissed.

"Shut it, girl," Collins said blandly, twisting the gun back up to point it at her.

"You put that gun down, Collins," Aaron growled in a low voice. "That's my daughter you're aiming at."

"Or what will you do?" he inquired, an arrogant smile on his face. "You're completely in my power. Your dæmon is wearing one of those." He gestured to Starra, who was glaring poisonously at him. "Controllers. An invention on mine."

"Of course it is." Dr. Steward spoke up for the first time, his face drawn. "You've just been using us the whole time, haven't you?"

"Of course not!" The Director turned to face him, the pistol drooping in his hand. "You and Aaron's team has broke through the bind we've been having! Without you, there wouldn't be all this marvelous new research we keep getting!"

"Marvelous," Aaron scoffed. "Right."

Rosalie looked down at Solas, his eyes half-open. He half-stirred, shaking his feathers as if he was going to stand up. "Don't," she whispered. "It's fine."

"No," he argued, eyes glazed. "Not me...Ziz..."

"What's wrong with her?" Rosalie dropped her voice until it was barely above a whisper. She leaned closer, her ear nearly pressed against his bright yellow beak.

He coughed, his chest heaving, and Rosalie noticed with astonishment that he was no longer bleeding—at least not blood. A fine stream of golden specks was falling gently from his wound like gleaming sand. She half-reached out to try and touch it, then pulled back, afraid.

"Don't!" Tyxander's eyes were closed and he was shaking his head. "It's too late. He's fading."

"No," Rosalie murmured, stroking his feather. "Solas, hang on a little longer. My father can help you."

Solas closed his eyes again, sighing. "Ziz," he murmured. "Ziz is...coming. Mitchell..." He started mumbling under his breath, his voice too low for her to hear.

Director Collins's eyes sparked, and he took a step forward, dropping the gun to his side. "You really are going to be this way, Aaron? I'm the one that hired you when you were nothing but a research boy for the Department in Akron! I brought you here and taught you what it was like to be a real scientist! Just like I'm teaching my own son. He'll be just like me one day—"

At that moment, there was a whirl of motion, a glint of silver in the dark hallway. With a rush of air and a heavy thud, a knife buried itself in the sleeve of the Director's jacket, pinning his arm soundly against the wall. He lifted his incredulous eyes to look at Jay, who looked nearly as astonished at what he just did. "Insolent boy!" he roared. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Stopping you." Jay took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. "I am not like you," he said clearly. "I'm done with this. No one else will be hurt here because of you or anyone else."

Dr. Clark, who had been silent the whole time, stood a little straighter, her eyes bright with anger. "You can't talk that way to him!" she screeched. "You're just a little boy!"

Taking his cue, Aaron shoved her sideways, startling her enough that she dropped both dæmons in fright. They winged off, lifting high in the air before Myrilla's dæmon could sink his claws into their feathers.

"No!" Collins pulled something out of his pocket, a long gleaming length of silver that glinted in the moonlight.

Dr. Steward leaped for him, knocking the thing out of his hands and onto the ground, where it spun straight towards Rosalie, bumping against her knee. A remote control. "Grab it!" he cried, grappling with the Director. "Break it! Quickly!"

Rosalie snatched the thing off the ground even as Myrilla grabbed for it. With a twist of her wrist, she slammed it into the ground with enough force to dent the metal, flinging bits of shrapnel everywhere. Her palms were cut and bleeding, but Rosalie didn't stop until the remote was a broken, twisted piece of useless metal.

Aaron had Dr. Clark's arms behind her and was fastening something on her wrists: his own pair of handcuffs. "Try actually locking them in place next time," he growled as he tightened them.

Myrilla had stood up, her eyes glittering dangerously. She wheeled towards Dr. Steward, her voice raised shrilly in anger. She hammered on his back with her fists, her dæmon leaping high in the air to try and catch Volara, but the robin dæmon was too high, out of reach to the fierce cat.

"Get up!" Jay grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to her feet. "We have to find Ziz!"

"But Dad," she protested, keeping Solas pressed against her chest as if he was her own dæmon.

"He'll be fine," he assured her, pulling her along. His scorpion dæmon was on his shoulder, her tail curled menacingly along her back. "They can take care of themselves. We have to alert the authorities!"

Rosalie rushed along with him, Tyxander racing along the ground with his meerkat tail pencil-straight in the air. Solas was uttering soft cries of pain, and she pressed him closer to her, closing her eyes briefly and sending a quick prayer for anyone to come and help them.

"Over here!" Jay ran down another endless white hallway, this one with the lights lit blindingly. She winced, nearly tripping over her own feet as she ran, burdened down by Solas's fifty pound weight. Jay doubled back, scooping him neatly out of her arms and folding his wings tight against his body. "We're close to the exit," he told her breathlessly, shunting her into a room. "We should be able to get—"

"No! I won't let you get away!" Dr. Clark was in the doorway to the room now, her short hair in disarray and her glasses askew off of her thin nose. "Bring him back!"

"Run!" Jay shoved Rosalie ahead of him, knocking over a chair, hoping to trip the woman as she chased them. "Go! Don't look back! Keep going!"

Rosalie thought her chest would burst if she kept going but she forced the pain out of her mind, keeping all her thoughts on her father and Solas. Taking a sharp left, she raced down the hallway again, hearing Dr. Clark's screams for them to stop.

There was a scream like a panther's—high-pitched and caterwauling—and Rosalie chanced a glance over her shoulder, just in time to see Ziz tackle Dr. Clark, knocking her to the ground and standing over her, one wing drooping to the ground brokenly. Her fangs were bared inches from Dr. Clark's throat, and she let out a fierce, screechy growl. Dr. Clark paled.

"Ziz!" Rosalie turned around, wildly dashing back to her side. "Are you hurt?"

"Solas?" she rasped, turning to look at Rosalie, her eyes confused. "Where is he? I felt..." She gasped when she saw him in Jay's arms, abandoning Dr. Clark—who now lay perfectly still, her eyes wide—to race up to Jay, her eyes blinking rapidly. "How...how is this possible?" she whispered, lifting a talon to her own chest. "I felt something. I knew something was wrong. I left your friend in the car with Mitchell, but I couldn't stay away." Her voice broke.

"He was shot," Jay told her grimly. "My father shot him."

"The Director did this." Ziz did not sound surprised. "So much anger and hate," she murmured, stroking Solas's feathers.

Rosalie could see her talons were shaking, her claws clicking together. She reached out and took one of them, holding in in her hands as if she were a human, sliding her fingers over the tough black skin. "We need you to help him," she told her, trying to keep her voice calm.

Ziz's eyes were sliding in and out of focus, her talon still against her chest. "My heart," she gasped, her face contorted in pain. "We...we can't...go on anymore." She sounded like she was fighting for words. "I think this is it for us."

"No," Rosalie argued, tears building in her eyes. Jay rested a hand on her shoulder but she shook it off angrily. "No," she repeated. "This isn't it. It can't end this way. You're going to come live with us—you, Solas, and Mitchell. You're going to be a part of our family." Her voice broke on the word "family."

Jay lowered Solas—who was semiconscious—to the ground, where Ziz pressed her beak against his.

"Ziz?" the white phoenix dæmon asked faintly.

"Yes," she answered. "We are together." She closed her eyes, letting her cheek rest against his body. "We've always been together."

The golden specks had stopped falling from Solas's wound now, and he sighed deeply. "Mitchell is waiting for us."

"We'll go see him together." Ziz opened her golden eyes to fix on Rosalie and Jay, affection in her fading gaze. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you so much." She dropped her head back down on the ground, closing her eyes again.

"You saved us," Solas murmured. "We thought we'd be there forever, but you came. Thank you."

Rosalie sobbed, biting her lip. "No problem," she answered shakily, reaching out to rest her hand against their heads, but like a switch had been flipped, they disappeared. Her hand rested on empty air, nothing where the two hopeful young dæmons had been just a second before. Now they were gone, nothing now, and she couldn't seem to move her hand away. She knew they were gone—she winced as she thought the word _dead—_but she just couldn't move.

"Rosalie, we have to go now." Jay reached down, one hand ready to help her up. "They wouldn't have wanted us to..." He trailed off, not sure what to say.

Rosalie stared blankly at where they had been. The tile floor was still warm where they had laid. When she turned to look at Jay, she saw that Solas's blood that had stained the front of his white coat was gone, disappeared just as suddenly and completely as he had. Moving slowly, like an old woman, Rosalie reached up and took his hand, letting him help her back up, even though she couldn't feel her legs—couldn't feel anything but the shock of what had just happened.

Of course she knew that dæmons disappeared when they died, everyone knew that, but she had never actually seen it happen. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think of it anymore.

Tyxander pressed his meerkat face against hers, letting out a low chirrup. She reached up and plucked him from her shoulder, pressing him against her chest and feeling his warmth, eternally grateful that he was always and would forever be with her.

Dr. Clark looked as astonished at what had just happened as Rosalie felt. "They...they..."

"Get up," Jay said coldly. "Get out of our way."

Dr. Clark just stared at him blankly. "All that research...all that work gone to waste."

Rosalie didn't even feel herself move until she had already reached her hand out and smacked the woman across the face with all the fury and power at her command. Dr. Clark, shocked, raised one hand to her face, looking up at Rosalie, confused.

"Idiot," Rosalie snapped, a sob rising in her chest. "They weren't...they weren't just your research. They were real!"

But Dr. Clark didn't seem to notice what she said. She had returned her gaze back to where they had been.

Rosalie shook her head, walking coldly past her. Tyxander hissed at her dæmon, but the rabbit was just as out-of-it as she was.

Jay hurried to catch up, hanging awkwardly beside her. "They were your friends?" he asked her softly.

"I only knew them for a few hours," Rosalie clarified, feeling empty inside. "They were supposed to come home with us. They could have lived normally."

Jay reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. "Maybe this was the right thing," he said softly. "They couldn't have lived happy lives outside of here."

Rosalie stared at him, appalled. "So you'd rather them be dead than free?" she demanded.

No, no! That's not what I said! I mean, their human wasn't really...aware, was he? Could they really have been happy?" His dark blue eyes were sorrowful, and Rosalie looked away.

"I think they could have," she said firmly. "I really do."

Jay stopped abruptly at one of the doors on the side of the hall, a strange, sick expression on his face.

Rosalie recognized the door immediately: it was the back door to the room with the Bisector in it. Without a word, she pushed open the door and walked inside, snapping on the lights.

The room was eerily empty, no sound but the steady hum of the machine in the center.

Jay walked towards it slowly, as if he was in a dream, trailing his fingers down the cold metal. He walked up the steps to the control panel, sitting down in the seat Dr. Richards normally occupied, running his hands over the buttons and switches, then rested his elbows on the low stand and covered his face with his hands.

Rosalie followed more slowly, Tyxander in her arms. She took each step separately until she was standing right next to Jay. Seeing a toolbox underneath the panel, she reached down and opened it with a loud snap. Plucking a wrench—a thick, heavy piece of metal—out of it, she weighed it in her hand before mutely passing it to Jay. _You know what to do, _she thought.

He took it out of her hand, standing up slowly. Then, with a deep breath, readjusting his grip, he swung downwards and smashed in the monitor with a resounding crash.

* * *

**Wooooot! Computer pwn! XD **

**I have to go eat some peach ice cream and watch _Ghost Whisperer_ now. 'Ta!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	18. Chapter 18

**You know, I've had this chapter sitting in my documents for like six months and I haven't done anything with it, so I decided randomly to finish it up. XD**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

Crash after crash after crash, Jay kept smashing the computer—what they called the Command Center—until it was just a heap of scrap metal and sparking wires, and even then he kept going, feeling the sweat drip down his back and neck, knowing that with each strike of the wrench, he was slowly taking off the shackles that had bound him to this place.

"Jay." He heard Rosalie's soft voice as if from a distance.

A piece of metal zinged off of the main portion of the panel, slicing a shallow groove down his knuckles. He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes against the sting of pain.

His dæmon didn't try and stop him. They were as connected to this monstrosity, this Bisector, as they were to each other.

A hand rested gently but firmly on his upper arm. "That's enough," Rosalie said, tightening her fingers.

Jay looked at her mutely, then straightened, feeling the strain on his back muscles. He set the wrench down softly on the table next to a few jagged pieces of glass. "This will only stop the computer," he told her, not meeting her gaze. "We need to destroy the machine, too."

"Let's do it."

Jay almost grinned to himself. Rosalie didn't ask "how" or "why," never questioning the ability to do something. She always seemed to think he knew what he was doing, even when he felt lost himself. It was one of the many things that drew him to her. "We can try and get it with the sprinkler system. Look around for a lighter or something."

She turned away, her dæmon sniffing around with his keen ferret nose.

Jay watched her silently for a moment. What must she think of him? She knew the terrible truth now—that it was his idea in the first place to build the Bisector. She must think he was scum, a murderer—but once again, he got the feeling that he didn't know what she was thinking. Any normal person would be disgusted with him. But Rosalie was anything but normal with her still-changing dæmon.

She wasn't what most people would call beautiful, he supposed, but there was something in the way she _looked_ at people, how she made eye contact with someone when they were speaking. It made him feel important somehow, like what he was saying had meaning.

"I found one!" Rosalie hurried back with a small blue lighter—one of Ted's Bics—and held it out to him, a small smile on her face. "I'll let you do the honors."

"Why don't you do it?" he suggested, afraid that he was going to get cold-feet about destroying the machine. His father had put so much work into it... _No_, he stopped himself. _Don't think of him that way anymore._

"Well, I don't know how to use them," she admitted. "Neither of my parents smoked."

Jay reached to take it from her, but she gasped and grabbed his hand.

"You're bleeding," she pointed out.

Turning his hand, Jay saw the blood dripping off the ends of his fingers. A sliver of metal gleamed out of the side of his palm. "Ow," he said, surprised. "Well, it's not a big deal. Let's finish this first."

"You'll get gangrene or something," she threatened.

Jay laughed. "I think that's the least of our problems. Give it here." He took the little lighter out of her hand, clicking it to life. The tiny flame that flickered from the Bic looked insignificant.

"The heat will be what sets it off," Kunai told him, her tiny scorpion voice as familiar as his own. "The heat will travel higher than the flame."

"Yeah," he responded, clambering on top of the Bisector's tank. The metal was icy-cold to the touch. "You wanna sit this one out?"

"I'll be fine." But she didn't sound sure.

Reaching up, he gently pulled her tiny legs out of his sweater's material. Ignoring her squeaky protests, he laid her gently on the metal to the side of his feet. "There. I'm sure you'd prefer not to get burned."

She made a little _hmph! _of indignation before relaxing back, her tiny eyes like black beads.

With a quick rasp, Jay lit the lighter, flicking it easily into a flame.

It didn't take long for the alarm to sound. It was a loud, blaring two-note horn, repeating itself ear-shatteringly every two seconds.

"Alright!" he yelled to Rosalie over the noise, clapping his hands over his ears. "Any second now!"

She bent and scooped up her dæmon, holding the lithe cobra close to her chest. She nodded, eyes locked on his.

There was a light rumbling sound before the pipes exploded around them, showering them with the dirty, foul-smelling water. Jay coughed and sheltered Kunai from the deluge, letting her skitter inside his shirt.

"Let's go!" Rosalie called, heading toward the door. "We have to get out of here before they find us."

Jay nodded wearily in agreement, already remembering those sharp orange-yellow eyes of his father's dæmon. She had always scared him, frightening him on purpose sometimes. To keep him loyal to his father—to keep him obedient. Pinning her down to the ground with his boot and hearing _her _be terrified was the most satisfying thing he'd ever done.

"Do you have a cellphone?" he asked Rosalie while they ran down the hallway, taking a right to lead them closer to the edge of the building.

She shook her head. "Not with me. I left it in my backpack in the car."

He gritted his teeth. "That makes things a little more difficult. We need to find a phone." He stopped suddenly, reaching out to grab her arm. "Wait, Rosalie."

"What is it?" She turned bright brown eyes on him, her dæmon's red eyes peeking through her hair.

A little unnerved by the unblinking stare of the snake, he said, "Maybe you should leave now. I can go and find a phone."

"No way!" she exclaimed. "No, I'm coming with you. Me and Ty can't just leave you here. We're together on this."

"Nothing I can say will make you change your mind?" he pressed. "What about Leah?"

Rosalie's gaze darkened for a moment before she shook her head, her wet hair sending water droplets soaring. "She'll be fine. Ziz…Ziz told me she'd be okay. And I trust her."

Jay let out a breath of relief. "That's right. She did say that." He chuckled a little before admitting, "I'm kinda glad you don't want to go. I don't want to be here by myself."

She reached out slowly, blushing, and tugged at his fingers. "I won't leave you. We're in this together, right?"

Smiling softly, Jay brushed the strands of hair sticking to the side of her neck, his fingers lingering there for a moment before he took her hand. "Right. Now let's go find that phone."

* * *

"Nine-one-one, right?" Rosalie asked, picking up the phone and handing it to him. "We really call them now?"

He managed a laugh. "Yes." Taking the receiver, he dialed the number and waited impatiently.

"Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?"

Jay had only called the police once before in his life—a long time ago when there had been a fire breaking out in his neighbor's backyard from an overturned grill. He remembered just how bland and dull the people sounded on the other line; it was a way to try and keep the caller calm while help was on the way.

"I need help immediately," he said, trying to keep his words hushed in case someone was listening. "I'm at the Department of Sedology and Study on Pine and 14th."

"What's going on?" The woman on the other end sounded almost bored as she asked the question.

"There's a man here with a gun. We need immediate help."

"I can send some officers down to check it out. What's your name?"

"Jay Collins. It's my father with the gun. His name is—"

The line went dead.

With a feeling of sudden, icy dread, Jay looked up to see the taloned foot of his father's dæmon step inside the room, the ragged edge of the phone line dangling from her open mouth. She let it drop with a soft thump, letting out a low hiss.

Then his father stepped into the room, one hand clutching his side. "Jay," he said calmly, conversationally, as if he was talking about the weather. "I see you're trying to run away." His eyes wandered to the phone cable on the ground. "Shame about that," he noted. "You really shouldn't be trying to do that, you know."

"Where's Dr. Brown?" Jay demanded, grabbing Rosalie's arm and pulling her behind him.

"Oh, he's around." Director Collins strode into the room, Verendis at his heels, her plumed tail swishing behind her. "For now."

"What did you do to him?" Rosalie was gripping Jay's arm so tightly that his fingers were growing numb. "Where's my dad?"

"Shut your mouth, girl. You have no right to be here. If this was a normal day, I'd have you escorted from the premises. But now you know too much." He straightened, dropping one hand to Verendis's scaled head. "Far too much to be allowed to live."

Jay gasped. "What are you saying, Father?"

"Stand aside, Jay," the Director snapped, losing his temper for once. "You know what I'm saying."

Verendis already stepped forward, her little claws flexing in anticipation as her forked tongue fell out of her mouth.

Jay pulled out the dagger at his waist but the Director moved swiftly, knocking the knife from his hand and sending it clattering across the room. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, he lifted Jay from the ground, choking him.

"You'd best be aware of who you're dealing with, _boy_." His voice was deadly soft. "Stand aside."

Jay fought for breath, clawing at his father's hands, but he wouldn't let go.

Kunai swarmed out from the sleeve of his shirt, arching her tail over her back and sinking the stinger deep into the Director's knuckles.

Jay felt the touch somewhere deep in the center of his chest, feeling a pang of nausea even for the split second that his dæmon touched his father.

With a roar of rage, the Director yanked his hand back, carrying Kunai with him. He flicked his wrist, sending her flying towards the back of the room.

Gasping in pain and shock, Jay fell to his knees, clutching his chest. "Kunai!" he called, nearly sobbing. "Kunai!" He ran to her, gathering her up and pressing her close to his chest, trying to seal the hole that had developed at their separation.

"I'm fine," she insisted, though her voice was faint and weak. "Rosalie!"

He turned to see the Director advancing on her, Verendis flaring her wings to leap…

Rosalie recoiled back as the dæmon attacked, pulling something from her waist and raising it, the light catching along the metallic surface like a flash of lightning…

There was a wet thud and then a shriek of pain, followed instantaneously by a deeper echo of agony.

Now it was the Director on the ground, his eyes watering with pain. He grabbed at his wrist, staring at his hand with wide eyes. "My hand! My hand!" he yelled, his voice cracking under the strain of his shout. "My hand! My hand!"

Verendis was still screaming, her voice high-pitched and hair-raising, as she thrashed on the ground, a growing puddle of blood smearing her green-and-blue plumage scarlet.

Rosalie got slowly to her feet, the dagger in her hand dripping the dæmon's blood. Tyxander stood behind her, a regal golden-furred lion, as they both stared down at Verendis with twin expressions of horrified shock.

Jay ran to her side just as she tilted sideways, catching her before her head hit the ground. "Are you alright?" he whispered frantically. "Rosalie, are you hurt? Did she get you?"

Tyxander turned into a little blue bird, falling limply on the ground. Kunai went to him, preening his feathers between her sharp pincers.

Rosalie blinked rapidly. "I didn't kill her, did I?" she whispered at last.

Now Jay really looked at his father behind him.

The Director was still clutching his hand, staring at it with eyes so wide Jay could see the white all the way around his blue irises.

Verendis was a different story.

She was screaming, struggling weakly on her side as blood pulsed from one wing; it looked like Rosalie had managed to sever the last few inches of the dæmon's wing arm, leaving most of the flight feathers attached to a strip of flesh lying on the ground. It made Jay sick to look at it.

"She'll live." He grabbed Rosalie and helped her to her feet. "We need to go."

Leaning heavily on him and holding her dæmon to her chest with one hand, Rosalie nodded. They made their way to the door slowly, stepping carefully around the Director.

"Wait, Jay," he called out. "Don't leave, son."

Jay turned at that, staring down at him in disbelief. "So now I'm your son?" he demanded bitterly. "Now after all this time? Now that you're lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood because of your own mistakes? You're going to give me the so-called honor of being your son after all you've done to me, to Mitchell, to Rosalie?" He shook his head, laughing humorlessly. "You're kidding yourself. I don't want anything to do with you—not ever again. I'm no son of yours and you are not my father. I have no father."

The Director's face colored. "Don't you dare talk down to me, boy."

"Shut up!" Jay snapped. "I hope you go to prison for the rest of your life for this. I hope that you never get to see freedom again—you and Mother both. It would be what you deserve."

"And when I tell them that my son was involved in this?" A vicious smile cross the Director's face. "My brilliant, prodigy son was the one that devised the machine that caused this. What happens then?"

Jay felt all the color leave his face. "You used me for this. I didn't have anything…" But it was a lie, and Jay knew it.

And the Director knew it. "That's what I thought. So come over here and help me up. We have to cover our work."

Rosalie hadn't said a word the whole time; she had a hand clapped over her mouth in horror.

Jay looked from her back to his father, feeling an overwhelming sense of tiredness. "Say what you want. I won't keep running away—that's behind me now. I'm the one who created the Bisector, so I will take responsibility for it." He turned to Rosalie. "You should leave. Go find your father. The police will be here soon."

"I'm not leaving you," she shot back, tears in her eyes. Her dæmon's ferret back was arched. "I can't."

"If you're here, it will look suspicious." When she didn't move, he let out a short sound of exasperation. "Go, Rosalie! Go on! You can't be here!"

"I won't leave you!" she snapped. "You didn't leave me. What kind of person would I be to just run away?"

_You'd be like me, _he thought sadly. "Please. For me."

Her eyes flickered between his. "What's going to happen?"

Glancing back at his father, he grabbed her arm and led her outside, closing the door behind him. "I'll go to prison."

"No!" she hissed. "You can't! You didn't do anything wrong!"

"But I did," he answered wearily. "I helped build that machine."

"Just because you built it doesn't mean you knew what was going to happen—what they were going to use it for." She grabbed his shirtfront, not meeting his eyes. "I can't let you go. Please…don't do this."

He smiled sadly, smoothing her jacket over her shoulders. "I have to. I don't want to have to run away from anything anymore." Tilting her chin back with one finger, he added, "I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want to be the person that can't be relied upon, alright?"

The tears were overflowing from her eyes now, but her brown gaze was steady. "If this is what you want to do, I guess I can't stop you, can I?"

He laughed softly. "Just make sure when you get out to stay as far away from this place as possible. It's dangerous here, you know."

That got her to smile grudgingly. "I'll see you again, won't I? I mean, this isn't a goodbye, right?"

"It's more of a 'See you later,'" he promised. "Before you know it, I'll be back."

"And then…" She trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

"Then?" he prompted.

She didn't look at him. "Then we can…be together again, right?"

Feeling a rush of sadness and fear for what was about to happen, he drew her close, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head, so close he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. "Of course," he whispered against her still-damp hair. "Absolutely."

She clutched at his shirt material, burying her face against his chest. "I don't want you to leave."

"You have to stay with your father while I'm gone, okay? Make sure that he's alright—your family, too. Worry about them for a while and then I'll be back." He squeezed her tighter, not wanting to let go. "I'll always come back to you, Rosalie."

Just then, he heard running feet coming around the corner. "Stand against the wall!" someone shouted, and he hurried to comply.

A policewoman came up to them, wearing a bulletproof jacket and pointing a pistol straight at them. "Who are you?" she demanded. A cream-colored wolf dæmon as tall as her waist sniffed up at them, his black nose wiggling as he took in their scent.

"My name is Jay Collins," he answered smoothly. "This is Rosalie Brown."

"You're the one that made the phone call," she noted. "My officers will escort you back outside. We've already got five suspects in custody, but one man claimed there was another."

"My father. He's in that room. He needs a doctor," he added, clutching Rosalie's hand tightly.

The woman looked curious, but motioned her men forward into the room. Moments later, they appeared with the Director in tow, handcuffed but leaning heavily on a policeman's shoulder.

He glared icy daggers at Jay as he passed. "I'll see you later," he hissed as he passed.

Jay didn't make any motion to show that he had heard.

A Rottweiler dæmon had Verendis—tied with rope—secured to her back, a jaguar dæmon watching her with bright amber eyes. His father's dæmon made no motion to attack, but her yellow-orange eyes locked fiercely and unblinkingly onto Jay, glaring at him with a poisonous intensity that made him shiver.

He and Rosalie followed the police outside into the bright sunlight, blinking at the glaring white light.

Already, his mother, Dr. Richards, and Dr. Clark were handcuffed and lined up against the wall, with Dr. Brown and Dr. Steward restrained just next to them. Their dæmons all were tied up, but Starra and Volara had managed to wiggle up to sit close together, their dark eyes watching the police suspiciously. Leah was on a stretcher being loaded into an ambulance, but her eyes were open and lucid, her dæmon's eyes bright and curious.

Jay noticed with a shock of icy sadness that another stretcher lay ready to be loaded, too, though this one was draped with a plain white cloth. _Mitchell._

"Rosie!" Dr. Brown called out, relief evident in his voice.

She ran to him, ignoring the warning growls of the thickset cougar dæmon that was watching them beadily. "Dad!" she cried, hugging him. "Why are you arrested?"

"They have to arrest everyone suspicious," he explained. "I guess I fit the bill." He shot a look to Dr. Steward at his side. "Though it might have been something to do with Steven's nattering on."

Dr. Steward shrugged. "What can I say? I'm no good under pressure."

"Alright, alright." The policewoman with the wolf dæmon stepped up. "Everyone, if you will please cooperate with us, everything will go smoothly. Pick up your dæmons and follow us—don't try anything stupid. Officers, escort them to separate cars."

Jay watched with dark eyes as his mother walked by. "Honey, don't judge us because of this," she urged. "This will help many people."

"That's what you've been saying for a long time," he said stiffly. "I don't believe a word of it."

She reached up with her handcuffed hands, stroking his cheek gently. "We did this for you, dear."

He jerked his face away. "I don't want this. I never wanted any of this, Mother!"

She looked hurt, her lynx dæmon wilting slightly in her hands. "Don't do this to me, Jay. I love you!"

"If you loved me you should never have done this. _Mitchell_, Mother!"

She looked firmly at him, her blue eyes steady. "I regret nothing. Just listen to what you hear, because it's all for you." The officer nudged her and forced her moving again, but she glanced over her shoulder one more time, eyes full of tears, before she ducked her head and disappeared from sight.

He stood there for a moment, confused. What did she mean by that?

Rosalie walked up to him, catching his hand easily. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to tell them." He walked up to the woman officer. "Excuse me, I have something to say about the operations going on here."

"Don't worry, kid," she said easily, holding up a clipboard. "I've already got it settled."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I don't think you understand. There's a machine inside, and—"

"Whoa, whoa." She held up her hands. "I've got it, alright? The suspects already sang like birds for me. That black-haired one—your mother, I guess—already gave a statement. It was backed up by the other four here. Look." She leafed through the pages. "A machine inside called the Bisector. It was built by the one called Richards and designed by the Collins couple and the woman named Clark." She looked up. "All good?"

Jay was stunned. "My mother gave this report, you said?"

"Sure did." She clapped him on the shoulder. "She was real apologetic about the whole thing. I'm sorry you've got parents like that, kid."

"Ah, thank you."

She offered them a ride back to the police station and they took it, sliding into the backseat of the cruiser. She chatted away at top speed about how the police had never known what was going on in the Department and how it was a total surprise, but Jay wasn't listening.

_Just listen to what you hear, because it's all for you._

Did this mean his mother was taking the blame for the Bisector for him?

Rosalie's fingers were still laced with his and he gripped them tightly. "She covered for you," she breathed in his ear, keeping her voice low to the policewoman wouldn't hear her.

"She did." He closed his eyes. "I don't know why, but she did."

"What are you going to do?"

He remembered how his mother's eyes had burned into his. _I did it for you._ "I guess I'm off the hook now," he said slowly. "I…I'm free."

"But your parents." Rosalie's expression was sad. "What about them?"

"They'll go to prison. Your father will be out in no time." He looked down at her, smiling. "Everything will be fine now."

"You aren't going to go run away or anything, will you?" she asked, concern in her voice. "I bet my father will let you come and live with us until you get on your feet."

Jay imagined the look on Dr. Brown's face at that suggestion. "You know, I _have_ always wanted to try my hand at high school." He grinned, squeezing her fingers. "Do you know any good ones around here?"

She laughed softly. "I think I know just the one."

* * *

**So now there's only one chapter left and then I'm done. XD Huzzah!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


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